


The Stages Of Grief and Recovery

by cosplayermadness



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12x23 coda, Ableist Language, Addiction, Alcoholism, Case Fic, Destiel - Freeform, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Sam/Eileen, F/F, F/M, Graphic description of birth, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Homophobic ghosts, LDS Mention, M/M, Mild Gore, No Lesbians Die, Relapse, Saileen - Freeform, Sexual assault flashback, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Violence, case fics, destruction of church property, eventual destiel, mention of sexual assualt, metions of death, sister wives mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2018-12-14 04:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 106,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11775948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosplayermadness/pseuds/cosplayermadness
Summary: Dean's been a wreck since Castiel's death and Sam's doing everything in his power to keep his brother afloat. What neither of them expected was a pair of hunters and their old travel trailer coming to their rescue and showing them the friendship they never expected to have. Both Sam and Dean work through their heartache and grief in healthy was for once in their life, and manage to become somewhat happy and stable individuals.





	1. Anger

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after the transgressions of 12x23 because I refuse to believe either Eileen or Castiel are dead.  
> This is a multi chapter work that I made instead of working on my book - the one thing that will ACTUALLY make me money - so the chapters will probably be far apart in posting. Eventually Castiel and Eileen appear but it's gonna be a SLOW progression. Also, Diana and Susan ARE reflections of the boys but not exactly like them.
> 
> Edit: I’m going to go back and edit the first two chapters eventually but I’m swamped with work and home stuff so it’ll be a while. I appreciate your patience

“Hey. I think I found us a case.” Dean put down his mug of coffee as Sam pushed the laptop towards him. The library was still in utter disarray weeks after Dean had destroyed it, but at least this one table had survived. Sam had left him alone for the most part, but he could tell when his brother was too in his own head for his own good. A case would do him some good. A welcome distraction from Lucifer’s love child out in the world. A distraction from the grief. 

“What? Vampires? I thought we got rid of them?”

“Yeah, so did I. But there was a blood donation drive at the church and when the van never showed at the blood bank, they suspected a thief. But get this, the same company who handles the blood deliveries had vans stolen once or twice a year, every year for the past ten years straight. And the drivers are missing too. Most of them don’t seem to have any living family to actually file police reports for them, so..”

“You’re thinking the company’s in on it. Hiring loners to drive the vans, letting them get “stolen”? That’s a lot of planning, but I guess if the right person owned the company… Yeah, okay. Let’s check it out. How far a drive is it?”

“Well, the company - SanguisPartum - has locations in twenty states, which is why they’ve been able to stay off the radar for so long. I guess the FBI doesn’t think that stolen blood trucks are worth their time.” Dean grunts humourlessly. “But the last theft was in Fredricktown, Missouri. There’s only like, 4000 people living there.”

“And a, what? Eight, nine hour drive? Greeeeeeeat.” Dean downed the rest of his coffee in one swig, hissing at the heat going down. “Guess we better head out soon, before it gets dark. They got a motel in town?” He stood, gathering the plates and mugs off the table, heading to the kitchen.

Sam pulled the laptop closer to him and hit a few keys. “Uh, yeah. And a bar and diner close by.” 

“Great. I’ll go pack.” With that, he disappeared from the room. Sam sighed, glad that he hadn’t been turned down, but apprehensive at the same time. Dean seemed stable now, but his older brother had a knack at hiding his true emotions. He just hoped that having a chance to kill something would help Dean work out some aggression, but it wouldn't solve all his problems. 

The drive was fairly long, and they stopped once for gas, but most of the car ride felt longer as they barely spoke. Dean finally allowed his to put in an iPod jack onto the car, so Sam had downloaded as many rock songs as the device could hold. They played loudly as the impala sped down the highway, a lead ball of… something sitting low and heavy in Sam's gut. Dean, if he were his 100% would never have let a “douce machine” like the iPod ever touch his beloved baby. But Dean wasn't at 100%, he was barely a functioning human. 

Cas was gone. Dead for good now, and it destroyed Dean. Whatever was left of the bunker had been torn to bits by him the second they had gotten back. Sam still can remember the smell of smoke coming from the light up table in the war room as his brother had taken the base of a lamp to it several times, almost electrocuting himself in the process. Sam couldn't deal with the endless nights of his brother staying awake as long as possible, shooting off enough rounds in the shooting range that a sizeable chip in the concrete just kept getting bigger. The blaring music from his room, the stomping of the feet at 3am, once brewing his coffee with some off brand energy drink. He knew that talking about it was off the table, but he thought maybe this might help. 

When they finally pulled into the parking lot of the motel, the sun was setting, casting rays of unfiltered light through the trees from behind the old building. A gruff older man gave them their key and when they opened the door, Dean dove head first into the bed, shoes still on his feet. 

“We can check in with the sheriff tomorrow.” He mumbled through the pillow. 

“Okay.” Sam placed their duffels on the floor, making his way to the bathroom. He was about to suggest they eat something, but poking his head through the door frame, he saw Dean had already passed out. 

The food at the local diner was nothing to rave home about, but Sam found that the coffee was to his liking. The diner had come up with various blends to try to compete with the new places opening up along the highway. Sam was on his second cup of hazelnut when he noticed his brother staring at something. 

“What?” He turned to follow Dean’s gaze and found two women sitting at a booth close to the door. They looked a few years younger than them, and almost ordinary. The one that was facing them was taller, with a long braid of brown hair curling down her shoulder and into her lap like a sleeping snake. She was looking intently at her tablet, speaking lowly to her partner. The other woman's face was tilted away from them, but she abruptly turned to face them, her sharp eyes staring them down. She had a hardness to the lines in her face, her jaw set sharply. Her hair was cropped short, spiked. And the gaze she sent them was filled with poison. 

“Hey, you know, if you took a picture, it would last longer.” She bit at them, her partner turning to see who she was speaking to. Huffing, she grabbed at the other woman's arm, trying to get her attention. 

“Sorry!” Sam found himself saying. “You just look like someone we knew, that's all.” He lied easily, trying to get Dean to look away and focus back onto the research in front of them. “Seriously dude, right now? We're in the middle of a case.”

“What?” Dean finally broke eye contact with the shorter haired woman to look at Sam with confusion. “No, it's not- look. They just- I don't know. Something's not right with those two.”

“What are you even talking about? They're just eating breakfast. I think you're being paranoid.” He leaned back in his chair, sipping at his coffee, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge his older brother. 

Dean's expression turned from concerned to Bitchface© in a hot second. “I'm telling you, there's something about them.” 

Sam scoffed. “Sure, Dean.” 

\---------

The town Sheriff seemed to be just as stumped as they expected, but the man was far sharper than they expected. His desk was filled with piles of folders, books on serial killers marker with sticky notes throughout. He was rubbing at his face with one hand as he poured himself another cup of coffee. 

“Sheriff Jones?” Sam flipped open his badge, showing his fake credentials. “Agent Josephson and Linwood. We're here to investigate a string of disappearances of van drivers. We heard that a driver named” he flipped open the tiny black notebook. “Leonard Mathews. What can you tell us about him.”

Sheriff Jones hadn't slept properly in days, his eyes barely open looking at the two of them. His skin had lost whatever life it had in it years ago, wrinkles framing his eyes and mouth making him look twenty years older than he actually was. It was no surprise to Sam that the man simply sighed and told them everything he knew. “Lenny was a good man, for the most part. He paid his taxes on time, never drank, went for a run every morning, mostly kept out of people’s hair. He didn't really have anyone in his life though. He moved here from New York a few years ago - nasty divorce it seems - and he mostly just picked up work where he could. He was a farm hand for a while, but mostly he was either selling tiny wood carvings or helping people renovate or move. He started working for this Sanguis company about three months back, mostly weekends and nights, and they're not cooperating.”

“What did they say when you called?” Dean sat in the one chair across from the sheriff’s desk that still had its armrests. 

“Not much. Mostly that they'd need a search warrant before divulging any information.” The Sheriff sighed as he downed the rest of his coffee. “Something about ‘sensitive information that could end up hurting their clientele’ which sounds pretty sketchy to me. Especially with these other missing cases they have.”

“You mean the other missing drivers?”

“Yep. It seems there's a connection but unless I can get a warecent…” he shrugged, coffee sloshing a bit in his mug as he did so. “I still doubt they'd actually give me anything useful. They're definitely hiding something there.”

“I agree.” Sam nodded, closing his book. “We've been looking through what they have and the warrant just made it more confusing.” The lie was so easy and smooth it fell from his mouth like a pat of butter on a hot skillet. “They all seem to be loners so it seems unconnected, but could there have been someone Lenny saw or confided in? A lover? A priest?” 

Sheriff Jones scrubbed a hand over his face, his wedding band trying to catch on his beard. “Not really. I can give you his file, but mostly he kept to himself, like I said. I'm starting to think it might be a serial killer.”

“It's a possibility.” Dean said. “We’ll be staying at the motel next to Tom’s, room 5 if you think of something else.” He took the file from the older man with a smile, saying their goodbyes quickly. When he looked back into the sheriff’s office from the front door, he saw him already asleep, head tilted back on the chair and mouth open. 

\----------

The sign out front of Tom’s bar was red and flashy in the only way a small town bar could be flashy. The bar was small, but lively enough to let Dean know that no one would pay them much attention as they picked a small table in the corner to drink. The sheriff was clearly as clueless as everyone else in town, and since they had zero leads, drinking felt like their best decision.

A perky and older woman came to take their drink order, long dark hair in braids on either side of her head. She clearly has some hearing issues as it took several tries to tell her their order, but something caught his eye as she finally left. At the bar, a familiar long brown braid. A pair of worn cowboy boots, and a purple plaid shirt. One of the young women from the diner sat there, sipping a beer and staring intently at something a few tables away. Dean followed her eye line to find a slightly intoxicated younger man with the short haired brunette that he’d seen with cowboy boots at the diner just hours ago.

“Do you see those two girls over there?” Dean gestures at the other end of the bar. 

Sam turns to look in the direction his brother pointed to. “Yeah? Why?”

“They look familiar to you?”

“No. Should they?”

“I thought I saw them at the diner early today.”

“It's a small town Dean.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He took a long drag from his bottle, watching the woman at the table slowly put her hand on the man’s thigh, eyes turning dark with lust and biting her lip. The man looked flustered but the action didn’t seem unwelcome in his own eyes. Dean smirked to himself, hoping the guy knew when he was about to get played. He flicked his eyes back to cowboy boots to see her putting down her beer and walking over carefully to the table. She seemed to be stalking her prey. Ever so slightly, she slipped her hand into the man’s jacket pocket without him realizing, as her partner pulled his face into a deep kiss. She pulled away and cowboy boots broke them up. There was a tense conversation between both women, spiky hair clearly wanting to stay, and cowboy boots wanting to leave, before cowboy boots finally pulled her friend up by the arm and all but dragged her away. The man sat in shock the whole time, staring as the door slammed behind them. “Huh.”

“What?”

“They just stole that guy’s keys.” Dean didn’t realize he had stood until he was following the two women and felt the cool air hit his face as he made it outside. The women were long gone though, clearly high-tailing it before the poor sucker realize he’d just been robbed. 

“Dean. What's going on?”

“I just-” he pointed at the lot around them, seemingly at nothing. “They were- I don't know Sam. Those women, they're not-”

Sam held his brother by the shoulders, trying to ground him. “It's okay Dean. Maybe they're just playing him. Maybe they're hustling like we've done a hundred- thousand - times before.”

Dean breathed deeply trying to calm himself. He felt himself nodding along but inside he felt numb. He was reading into things too much again, just like he had thought the cashier at the grocery store had laughed at him a week prior for buying so many frozen pizzas when she was just laughing at the lame pun her friend had said. Or for thinking a goose was chasing him when it was just trying to get away from someone's dog. He closed his eyes, nodding once more before Sam let him go. He didn't open his eyes again for a few minutes, opening and closing his fists a few times before a hand started tapping his arm. 

“Dude, look -” Sam pointed across the parking lot to a beaten down sedan off to the left. “That car over there. Doesn't it look like the car Lenny owned?” They shared a look before walking over. The front bumper was smashed as if it had been rammed into something. The licence plate was undamaged, more than likely replaced after the accident. The hood wasn't closed properly either, the paint chipped significantly. A woman climbed out, full pant suit and silk scarf making her stick out like a sore thumb in the town. 

“Can I help you?” She closed the compact mirror in her hand soundly, clearly annoyed. 

“Ma’am. We're from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and this car is a part of our investigation in the disappearance of-” SMACK! She slapped Sam hard across the face before he could finish pulling out his badge, blood dripping from his lip where her rings connected to his face. Dean moved to put a hand up but her face contoured and her fangs dropped down. 

“Vamp!” Dean pulled out his knife and stabbed at her, missing as she dodged him. She missed every lunge he tried and blocked each of his stabs. Sam got to his senses quickly enough though and pulled his own knife from his suit coat. He stabbed at her arm, pulling her attention away from Dean long enough for him to slip her throat. She pulled away to put a hand to it, but Sam countered by slitting the back of her neck just as deep. With one hard twist, he severed the neck and pulled his head clean off, with a great deal of blood and tissue matter splattering all over him and the cars around them. 

Dean turned to say something he thought was funny to Sam when he felt a needle go into his neck, a heat rushing into his neck and face. He tried grappling for the person behind him but flailed. “Dean!” Sam reached for him but another figure stabbed another needle into the taller Winchester’s neck, the plunger of the syringe being forced violently down. Dean felt himself going limp and tried to scream for his brother, a wet gurgle coming from his mouth instead before he hit the gravel. 

\-----

The smell of rusted metal filled his nostrils as he came to. The pain in his neck from the needle left it sore, but still very present. He cracked one eye open to check around him. On the hard concrete floor, he saw Sam slumped but alert, struggling to get free of the zip tie that held him to the support beam. Looking up, he could see they were in an abandoned cannery. “Always with the abandoned buildings” he grunted. Sam turned to him, struggling more now and whispering something to him he could barely hear. 

A slam brought him up to look behind them, two vamps coming through a back door. Dean struggled to stand but the closest one to him grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and held Dean's arms behind him in an uncomfortable position, pulling with one hand and pushing at his head with the other. Another vamp pushed a hand to close over Sam’s throat, another hand pushing back on his chest. There were a few more slams before another three vampires sauntered in. 

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t the WInchesters! Coming to kill us? Well, I guess it was bound to happen at some point, eh?” The shortest of the five vamps stepped forward. He didn’t look like much of a vampire, in fact he looked barely older than seventeen. “I mean, it only took you hunters ten years to realize what we were doing. Man, I guess that means we really are smarter than you, huh?”

“SanguisPartem, huh? Blood Delivery, real clever guys.” Sam mocked. The vamp holding him against the wall only pushed at his throat more forcefully. 

“Yeah, you like that? My friend Melody came up with that, but you guys met Melody, right? You know, when you killed her?!” Spittle flew from his mouth as he threw a can of beans at Dean, hitting him in his shins. “She was my mate, you know. And you killed her. Poof! Just like that.” 

“Yeah, and when we’re done with you, you two can go frolic in purgatory for the rest of your days.” Dean spat at the one holding him and was met with a powerful smack up the side of his head in response. 

“Oh, see - not gonna happen pretty boy. I think we’ll just have to keep you two as our blood bags for, hmm… maybe a few months. Then we’ll drain the rest of you to replace the blood from the van that went missing, and boom! No one’s the wiser. That’s the thing about money boys: when you have it, you get away with anything!” A loud clanking noise from behind him startled the brothers, and the vampire just smiled. “There they are! Ah, the perfect chains for the perfect blood bags.” He pulled a length of chain from the pile on the concrete and started walking towards Sam. 

“You leave my brother alone you son of a bitch!” He yelled, gaining an even harder smack upside the head, backhanded this time. He felt the pain searing the side of his head, sure that whatever rings the guy had been wearing had left gashes along his temples. 

“Now now Dean. You’ll get your turn next! There’s enough chain for everyo-”

BOOM! A bang so loud he felt the ground shake beneath him resonated throughout the warehouse. A pop followed, and a hissing sound as a canister rolled into view, spewing smoke. “What the hell is that?” The leader vampire started hissing as the mist of the gas touched his skin, leaving nasty burning patches on everything it touched. “Run away! Get- get away!” He started coughing, grabbing at his chest. The vamp holding him up ran too, letting Dean fall to the ground in a crumple. Another pop noise came, and another canister rolled in, filling the room with even more smoke. The vampires succumbed to the gas, one by one hitting the deck as the smoke filled their lungs and left their skin blistering. Dean coughed at the smoke, but it didn't hurt. He looked to Sam seeing his brother much the same. Dean’s vision started to blur as he saw two dark figures appear through the smoke, machetes in hand as they stopped just in front of a fallen vampire. SHICK! The blade moved in one fail swoop as the vamp was beheaded, head rolling towards his boots. The pain in his head was too much, and Dean pitched forward, barely catching himself on the figure standing in front of him, spiky hair and blue eyes. 

“Hey now. Don’t upchuck on my shirt. This thing is still fairly new.” A female voice fluttered up to meet him, but he couldn’t respond with any witting banter because he promptly passed out on her shoulder. 

\--------

Pain. Pain reminds you that you’re not only alive, but that you’re human. And Dean was in a lot of pain. He awoke slowly, face hurting like a bitch, and eyes stinging from the light. It was morning and he was lying somewhere with a low ceiling and a faint raspberry smell. He turned his head to see the same spiky haired woman from the bar sitting in a camp chair in the middle of the trailer they were in, wearing moose pajamas and deeply engrossed in a novel. He very carefully felt for the gun in his waistband, trying not to draw attention to her and felt nothing.

“Yeah, we couldn’t exactly have you two waking up all freaked out and wielding weapons at us with a concussion now, could we?” He looked at her but she was still staring at the book, casually turning the page. “You’re welcome for the save back there, by the way. Oh, and you probably feel like shit right now, so I can give you something for the pain as soon as my partner gets back, but for now, I’d just relax if I were you. You got tossed around there quite a bit, and you have a few stitches in your face. You shouldn’t scar so long as you take care of it, but the wound on your arm, that’ll definitely scar. Your brother is fine, mostly bruising, but he spent most of the night watching to make sure you were still breathing, so I’d let him sleep if I were you.” 

“Wha-?” The woman pointed in front of her and Dean twisted his head to the left to see Sam sleeping on an ugly outdated pink couch not three feet from him. As he looked around, he noticed the majority of the trailer was outdated, the paneling alone looked thirty years old. The kitchen across from the bed he was in was nothing more than a burner, a counter and a fridge with a microwave tucked into an open cabinet. There was a foldable door leading to the back of the trailer that was closed, but Dean guessed it wasn’t much newer than the rest of the place. The woman looked younger than him, maybe twenty eight, but her stance made her look far older. Her hands looked rough like a hunter’s, but the tension around her jaw and eyes was much more severe than he was expecting. She had on no jewelry save for a set of gold star studs in her ears, her hair cropped short and styled in soft spikes. She held herself like she was ready for battle, and the look in her eyes when she finally turned them towards him was one filled with the darkness of a person who had seen too much. 

“You know, I never thought I’d cross paths with the Winchesters, honestly, I’d been avoiding you two for a couple of years now, but I gotta say, you two really live up to your reputation.” 

“What do you mean?”

She pursed her lips in thought for a moment before closing the book and turning her whole body to face him. “Well, most hunters hunt one thing, maybe two for their whole lives. Me? I’m partial to the ghosts. Salt and burn and on my way. Sometimes though, we like to mix things up a bit and hit up a vamp’s nest. Keeps us on our toes. But you two? Oh, you guys are the creme de la creme of hunting. You guys do everything, which is insane, but I guess that’s the Winchester way.”

“We’re not insane. We just go where we’re needed.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, whatever you say to keep you warm at night babe. But honestly? Most hunting is like engineering: you stick to one specialty and you work your ass off to be a specialist, and you stay in your lane. No sane electrical engineer decides one day to “try out” environmental or civil engineering for a weekend cuz “that’s where the jobs are” because that’d be stupid. But hey, to each their own.” 

“Well, we can’t all just do salt and burns and be done with it.” Dean was starting to get angry. How dare this stranger judge his life without knowing it? Didn’t she knew that it was him and Sam who kept stopping the end of the world time and time again?

“Look, I get it! You two are some manifest destiny crap woo-woo shit or whatever, but you know they call you two psychopaths in the hunting community for a reason, right?”

Dean’s sigh was long and deep. “Yeah, I had a feeling. But riddle me this: if we’re so psycho, why are you helpign us?”

“Cuz it’s our job as much as its yours. We make sure that people are safe from the things that go bump in the night, and even two dis functional adults like you two deserve to be saved from that shit.”

“Great. Now that we have that established, can I have my gun back? And my knives?”

“Yeeeeeeah. Wish I could, but my partner locked them in the lock box and took the key with her. But she’ll be back soon and after she checks you two over, you can have them back.”

“Great.” He fell back onto the pillows and looked at the bed he lay on. The comforter was floral, soft and far more luxurious than he was used to. A single picture was attached to the low ceiling above the bed. He squinted at it, making out two young girls with a mother and father. “This you?”

“Uh, yeah. That was us a long time ago.”

“Your partner… she’s your sister?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Your folks. What got them?”

The woman laughed dryly and without humour. “Hunters always think someone has to die for you to become a hunter. Nothing got them, no monster at least. But they are dead, if that's what you’re wondering.” Sam stirred on the couch then. “Ah! He lives!”

“Diana,” Sam’s voice was rough with sleep as he addressed the spiky haired woman. “Where’s Susan?”

“Grocery run. We ran out of ibuprofen last night and we needed food. She’ll be back in the next ten minutes or so.”

“How long have you been hunting?” Dean rolled off the bed to come sit with Sam on the couch, the entire trailer protesting as he did. 

“Oh and off the past thirteen years.”

“Why on and off?”

Diana laughed again. “This guy’s funny Sam. You never told me your brother was a laugh riot.”

“He only thinks he’s funny.” 

“Hey!”

“It’s fine. We dipped out of the game a few times for various reasons. But last year, when those British dicks showed up, we weren’t planning on coming back.”

“Why did you though?”

“They tried to kill our friend. I couldn’t sit on a beach in Belize and just do nothing.”

“You went to Belize?” Dean's face morphed into a mix of astonishment, awe and humour trying to picture the sore thumb of a trailer at a beach where everything was updated and swanky. 

Diana shrugged. “Susan likes the beach. And we know someone in the government down there who owed us a favour. We decided that after the apocalypse and leviathan and angels and shit, maybe it was time for a vacation and to drop off the grid for a few years.”

“But you came back.”

“Like I said: they tried to kill our friend. And you don’t fuck with our friends and get away with it.”

“Who-” But Sam’s question was cut short as the trailer door was being opened. Susan - the cowboy boot wearing, braid swinging woman - came through, arms full of plastic bags. “Little help here?” Sam and Diana stood to help, Sam crouching as the low ceiling made it almost impossible to stand completely upright. Susan looked younger than Diana, but only by a few years. She had a ring on her left hand, the band plain and silver looking. Her braid was so long it almost touched her butt and she was almost as tall as he was. When the groceries were out of her hands, she pulled the camp chair Diana had been sitting on and pulled it closer to Dean, plopping down in front of him. She pulled at a drawer underneath the bed he’d just slept on and pulled out perhaps the largest first aid kit he’d ever seen.

“Alright Dean, let’s check those stitches.”

“Woah! Hey, listen, I’ve done this a few times before so I think I know how to look after my own stitches, but thanks.”

“That’s nice. I’ve been an ER nurse for the past eight years and have been stitching and setting bones since I was twelve years old.See this here?” She pointed to her forehead, pulling back her bangs to reveal a tiny thin scar barely noticeable. “A junkie came in high on meth and wielding a broken beer bottle at the ER staff. He sliced me a good full five inches across my forehead. I stitched it all myself cuz we were so short staffed. Barely even a scar. This, on your own head is like sewing a button compared to that. Okay?” Dean nodded dumbly, allowing her to undo his bandages. “There. Looks good, no bleeding, clean edges, but I think you should still take some antibiotics to prevent infection.”

“Sure thing, just give me a prescription and I'll get that covered under insurance.”

“Don’t be silly, I have some in my kit.” She pulled open a part of the first aide kit where a plastic bead divider held several hundred pills each labeled and nestled cosy in their spots. He watched in fascination as popped open the lid on one and pulled a tiny plastic bag front the top of the kit to drop ten pills into. “Take one each day with food, and make sure to to that on each day for ten days. Clean the area with hydrogen peroxide, not rubbing alcohol as its so close to your eyes, and change the dressing every day. Here, I’ll make you a little pack with some gauze and ointment too.” She held her hand open and behind her without looking and DIana placed a freezer zippered bag into her open palm. Susan opened it and dropped the pills along with a roll of gauze, a tiny tube of ointment and a handful of sterilization wipes. “Now, let me look at your arm and then I’ll get you some ibuprofen. Here, give me your arm.” She pulled the sleeve up gently to reveal the thick gauze bandage on his arm. Pulling the tape back Dean winced at the sight of the nasty jagged gash. He looked up to see Sam’s face in disgust but Diana kept puttering about the kitchen like this was an everyday occurrence for her. 

“Why’d you become a nurse?” He asked as she re-cleaned the wound. 

“I got tired of stitching up people without being paid.”

“Nurses aren't usually allowed to stitch people up though.”

Susan gave a dry laugh. “Usually not, but get caught in an ER when there's a huge storm raging outside and barely staffed and you don't exactly have a choice.” She looked up at him with a small smile. “Besides, everyone loves me there and they just can't bare to say no to me.” She fluttered her eyelashes dramatically and got back to work. 

“You're really good at this.” Dean said lowly as she put on new gauze.

“Thank you.”

After a thorough look at both brothers’ wounds and the groceries put away, Diana and Sam started making a late lunch in the tiny kitchen. It was relatively quiet save for the noise of chopping vegetables or the sizzle of the oil in a frying pan, but it wasn't awkward. It was a welcome reprieve from the pounding in his own head. Dean sat back to watch them move about. Susan pulled out a pack of cards from a shelf above the couch and gestured to him. He nodded and they played an easy game of War as they waited. 

After lunch, the women dropped them off at their motel, and as the pick-up truck pulled the trailer away, Dean turned to Sam and said, “so that's what our lives would have been if we were women, huh?” 

Sam turned his best bitchface to Dean and said plainly, “you mean I’d still be taller than you and we would have spent a year in Belize?” 

Dean turned away from him, scoffing at the jib at his height and walked towards the impala. “Whatever. They were pretty cool though.”

“Yeah,” Sam got into the car, throwing the bag of stuff the ladies had left them. “They're smart, methodical. They weren't trained like us, or the Men Of Letters Dean. They figured that stuff out on their own, matching some bad movies, sure, but they- no one becomes a hunter unless they're forced into it or someone dies. They just did it to help their mom’s mental illness stay fairly in check. They…” he looked down at his hands before looking at his brother. “They could easily teach the next generation of hunters.”

They shared a look before Dean revved up the engine. “Let's hope they will.”


	2. Door of Immortality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean find a church with cult like history and need help from the Wilsons for recon. But how well do the Wonchesters know the Wilson sisters?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are probably a shit ton of spelling errors and grammatical errors so if ya see them, let me know please. It's 1am after a week of late night writing. 
> 
> Also, I did take some creative liberties with the mythology and facts on this one, though I tried to stick as close to the information available as possible, however, my intel may not be 100% reliable. Also, heads up there IS a pit of corpses and some talk about LDS compounds. Just wanted to warn you. Also, "Dean realizes Lesbians™". Enjoy.

“Hey Dean, I think maybe we should call the Wilsons on this one.”

Dean looked to Sam next to him in the Impala, flipping through the printouts of the case. There had been a spike in murders of church goers in a small town in Alabama. 

“Why?”

“Cuz honestly, we could use the backup. All the people who were murdered were married couples anyways, and I doubt they'll tell us any more than they told police. Maybe we could go undercover with them, and-” 

“Sam. We can do this on our own okay?” 

But they couldn't. As Sam checked them into their motel room, Dean made his way over to the church. He was stopped by the front door by a middle aged woman wearing pearls. 

“Excuse me, who are you?”

“Oh, hello mam. I'm agent Freely, and I'm here to see the deacon.”

“Mmm, no.” She put her hand up to stop him, closing the church door behind her as she stepped outside. “This is a place of worship and unless you have a warrant agent, I cannot let you in.”

“Man, I'm here in a federal investigation-”

“I don't care. I cannot allow you inside unless you have a warrant”. 

“I'm from the Federal Bureau of Investigation and I have superiority mam,”

“Separation of church and state, right agent?” She smirked. 

“Sure, but-”

“Well this is a private church and I'm going to have to exercise my right to ask you to vacate the premises. Immediately.” She said with finality, going back into the church and making a show of slamming the door so hard the frame shook. Then lock clicking. Dean turned to walk down the steps and was greeted by a group of mommy joggers with strollers complete with fussy babies, all of them staring at him. He tried putting on a friendly smile and waving, but their looks just turned more sour. 

\-------

“Yeah okay. Call them.”

“Already did. I spoke to the motel owner about the church and they said that they don't talk to anyone who isn't an active member. They even made a huge fuss with the local PD and most of these people have grown up together. Susan said they'll be here in a few hours. Lunch?”

\----------

The familiar trailer rolled into its spot on the campsite behind the blue pickup truck, letting out a long rattling noise as it stopped. Susan was the first to hop out of the cab, bringing the men into a group hug. Diana cut the engine and slammed the door with a bit more force than necessary. 

“Don't mind her,” Susan tilted her head in her sister's direction. “She's just upset because she's away from her lover all weekend.” 

Diana huffed as she started to unhitch the trailer from the truck. “I'm not upset, I'm just tired from the drive.” She forcefully cranked the handle of the trailer hitch. 

“A lover you say?” Dean put on his best shit eating grin. Finally, something he could rib Diana on. “Are we talking friends with benefits lover or exclusive lover?”

“It's more of the ‘none of your freakin’ business’ lover. Now either shut up and come help me, or go somewhere else.” She huffed again. Dean was sure this would work out just fine. Or maybe it would blow up in their faces; either way, Diana had some rage brewing and that's exactly what they needed right now. 

Sam moved to help Diana, shooting Dean a look. Dean wished he had a binder full of ‘Sam's Looks™’ that he could reference to because they were growing in numbers every day and even he was loosing track of what was what. He wondered idly if he could get them binded at the same Kinkos they got their fake IDS and how much it would set him back when Susan reached through the open window of the impala and swiped Sam's pile of research. 

“Geez,” she said not ten minutes later. “Yeah, it's a good thing you guys called us. This church looks like it's been more cult than church since the early 40’s.”

“What?” Dean moved to the picnic table Susan had wandered off to. He struggled to sit comfortably on the old wood, tugging a few scans of newspapers towards him. “How can you even detect something like that?”

Susan rubbed at her chin. “Technically, you can't detect it, not with some kind of device but by the characteristics of what a cult is.” She pointed to an article on her left, then to the two next to it. “The leader is held in an almost GOD-like position where they are seen as both an absolute and as not accountable for any actions. It's got an elitist, us vs them mentality where a member can move up the ranks through money or specific tasks meant to isolate them from outside society or humiliate them into obeying. Members are expected to spend most of their lives devoted to the program, worship or whatever you want to call it, often expected to bring in more members and continue to pay fees and grow the community without questioning the leadership.” She sighed as she pulled a highlighter from the bag on her hip. “There are articles here attacking the church and stating it's cult status and then after a few months, the journalist covering the story just… disappears.”

“So what do you think? Demon possession? 

“No… no that's too easy. It wouldn't go this far without just straight up slaughtering anything or have this long of a history in one place. That's over seventy years. It doesn't make sense. Did you get an EMF reading at the church?”

Dean shifted on the bench. “No. I… didn't get that far.” 

Susan looked up with a look that looked almost pleading mixed with pity but it quickly turned into concentration. “Okay, well we’ll just have to figure out how to get a reading on the DL.” She scribbled something in the margins of the printout, scratching out some of Sam’s previous notes. Sam won't like that, Dean thought, research nerds. Susan raised an eyebrow at him as if she could read his thoughts and handed him half of the stack and a pen to write his own notes. 

Sam and Diana were done with settling the trailer down and were now rummaging inside the trailer, a shout making Susan and Dean jump to check it out. 

“Ugh. Sam. You never said we'd be infiltrating a church!” Diana threw her duffle on the bed, running her hands through her hair in frustration.

“Actually, he did. I just elected to not tell you.” Susan leaned her hip against the doorframe, a stray fly making its way into the old trailer. 

Diana turned her heel to look at her sister in anger. “You… how… why? Why wouldn't you tell-”

“Cuz I knew you wouldn't come if you knew! And I'm not letting you out of my sight!”

“What-” Sam started to ask but was cut off by Diana flinging at pillow at her sister’s head. 

“I didn't do anything I shouldn't have.”

Susan moved to the ugly pink couch, bouncing as she sat. “You keyed his car and slashed his tires!

“But I didn't rip his lungs out, which I should have done to be honest because no one threatens you and gets away with it!” Diana wagged a finger in front of her sister's face. 

Susan sighed dramatically. “He's a drug addict! He's always saying inappropriate things and threatening the staff at the hospital! He's too strung out to realize where he is, even who he's talking to. I appreciate you standing up for me, but you crossed the line.” Diana mumbled something as she angrily zipped her bag open. “Besides, you can make it up to me.”

“Oh?”

“Go undercover with Sam.”

Diana looked up, a face of pure horror. “No, not the…”

“Yep. Put on the church lady outfit.” Susan stood triumphant with her hands crossed in front of her chest. 

“Church lady outfit?” Dean chuckled, earning him a look. “What's a church lady outfit?” 

Diana scoffed and turned around to pull her shirt off, rummaging in her bag for something and Dean froze. “Woah.” 

Sam’s eyes widened, also staring at Diana's inked up back. “What are all those?” 

“Oh these? Protection tattoos.” Susan pointed to each one on Diana's back as her sister continued going through her bag. “These are anti possession tattoos: ghost and angel. These three are for protecting against being cloned, like ghoul, shifter, anti-witch sigils, for use of blood for a spell and tracking purposes. The bottom ones burn whenever the corresponding monster comes close. One for each demons, angels, leviathan - although that one’s kind of a moot point now - witch and shifter. It was a lot of pain and research, but it's kept us alive.”

Diana pulled a dress from her bag, slipping it on and hiding her back from the room. She pulled her jeans off after and turned to show it off to her sister with a sour look. It was vintage, definitely something Dean had seen from the Stepford Wives. She adjusted the buttons on the front to hide every trace of cleavage. 

“Pearls?” Susan pulled the necklace from her jeans pocket and passed it to her sister. “You two will go undercover as Matthew and Maria Jones. You’re looking to move from the city because its not a safe place to raise your future children and need a place to start fresh. You’ll have to walk around town and chat up the locals to make it seem legit since they shunned Dean so quickly.”

“They didn't SHUN me!” Dean protested. “She just said I needed a warrant.”

Susan huffed a laugh. “Okay Dean. Either way, these people aren’t easily trusting and we have to see into that church. I bet they even have a basement where they torture people.”

“Why do you assume every church has a torture room?” Diana exclaimed. 

Susan shrugged making an incoherent noise. “Anyways, I made you a fake driver's licence and got a rental car under Matthew at the rental car place an hour away. We’ll drop you off there and you drive back from there. I know its far but the guy who works at the rental place is related to one of the church ladies and it’ll help with your story if you seem genuine with everyone who has contact with the church.”

“You think things out pretty well huh?” Dean asked, adjusting his tie and pulling it free from his neck. 

“You two have died.. what? Thirty times?”

Both brothers hung their heads a bit. “Something like that.”

“We've died zero times. Gotten close, but never died. Never made a demon deal or been possessed. We've stayed alive this whole time because we've had such detailed plans. They might be a tad obsessive, but we've managed just fine.” 

Dean lifted his hands in defence. “Okay, okay. I'm just saying, you know your shit.”

“We had to.” Diana's face turned hard. She slipped a brown wig from her bag, adjusting it on her head as she looked at her reflection in the mirror attached to the fridge. “If we didn't, we-” she huffed, hanging her head for a moment. Sam reached a hand out but Diana shook herself before he could make contact. “Never mind. Suz, where's my lipstick?” 

Susan stood, handing her sister a clear vinyl bag full of makeup she pulled from her bag. She adjusted the wig, making the fake curls look as real as possible. Dean noticed then the top of a protection tattoo peeking from the back of Susan's shirt, ink dark and more swirling than her sister's. Sam folded himself onto the couch, the entire unit protesting his weight, and he grimaced. “Get changed Mathew.” Diana sneered as she started on her eyeliner. In a mockingly sweet tone, she added “we just can't make a bad first impression on our new home, now can we?” 

Dean wanted to laugh; seeing Diana in a cookie cutter housewife garb with the voice and jewelry, it was a sight. But he kept his opinions to himself. They didn't know each other well enough yet for him to tease her on it and didn't want to get a smack upside the head. He was about to leave to go back to the research but stopped short when he saw a necklace laying on the counter by the door. It wasn't remarkable, but the pendant on the chain reminded him of something he'd seen once before. The purple hue of the stone set in the twisted metal caught the light in such a way that the few inches around it looked as if it glowed purple. He filed that away for later to ask the Wilsons what it was. 

Taking the truck seemed to be the less obvious option, so the Impala was tucked away from view in the bushes near the trailer, very few places on the campground rented during the middle of spring weather. Dean moved as many weapons as he could to the truck but was surprised to find a better cache of knives and guns that he'd ever seen an American hunter carry. If he didn't see them fighting first hand, he would have assumed them to be mere collectors for the hell of it. Only getting a peak was enough to be jealous of how clean and well kept each gun, knife, and lock pick set were. 

Once dropping the two “newlyweds”, Dean and Susan made their way back into town to scope out the residents for some intel. Susan called it Recon something or other. Dean let the truck roll by neighbourhood after neighbourhood as Susan covertly filmed everyone coming and going from their houses. It wasn't something Dean normally did hunting, but he thought maybe just this once, he'd follow someone else's style for a change. It definitely wasn't the weirdest thing he'd ever done for research. Susan crossed off each street on the map they'd bought from a gas station as they passed it and would announce under her breath what street they were pulling into next just loud enough for the camera to pick up. 

After four hours, they stopped outside the general store for gas and groceries. Dean kept close to Susan, half expecting her to get rabbit food like Sam always did, but was pleasantly surprised when she turned down the candy aisle and grabbed several packs of Twizzlers. “Huh. Never figured you for the sweet tooth.” 

Susan turned, her braid swishing like a frayed piece of rope. “It's going to be a long weekend. Hopefully not much longer though. I have a shift on Tuesday.” She held up a pack of chocolate covered raisins, waving them near his face. “Gotta get through it with either caffeine, booze or chocolate, and they do random drug tests at work, so caffeine and chocolate are going to be our best friends for the next four days.” She threw them into her basket and moved on to grab coffee. 

\--------

Sam felt very uncomfortable driving the rental crossover vehicle into town. Diana sat in the passenger’s seat frowning and not looking at him, texting occasionally whenever an alert came into her phone. “Uh… so get this, the town has this really great bar we can hit up-” 

“I don't do bars.” Diana spat out. 

“Oh.” Silence followed for several more intersections before he asked, “when we met you guys, the two of you had been in a bar earlier. So I just, I don't know, assumed….”

Diana pocketed her phone and finally turned towards him. “I've been sober four and a half years now. I stay away from bars when I can. Last time it was to swipe that d-bag’s keys to search the boot of his car for clues on the case. We would have done it in the grocery store an hour earlier but the ass decided to leave his groceries for his wife and get blasted instead.”

“Oh.” He clipped his mouth closed, unsure of what to say next. 

Diana reached over to hit the radio on, music coming in clearly through the sound system. She began to sing with it, surprisingly on key:

“With how I feel today  
Feelin' Good oh like you know I should  
Got the pressure beat just like you know I would  
Feelin' good oh like you know I should  
Got the pressure beat  
Yeah!”

She poked him in the shoulder. “Come on Sam!” He chuckled and joined her as they flew by a dairy farm. 

“Back and forth again  
With my rememberin'  
Tell me who, or what, why, or where and when?  
Comin' back this time  
I gotta know the rhyme  
And I feel the clear  
Never gon' take what's mine!” 

Sam broke hard suddenly, sending Diana's phone skittering down the floor mat. “What the hell?” There, in front of three cars before them was a stray cow, standing in the middle of the road, a young boy trying to coax it back to the farm they just passed. No one else honked their horn, or got out of their cars, as if this was just an everyday occurrence that was simply a minor inconvenience. “Is that… it's a cow.”

“Well,” Diana smirked devilishly. “I guess that kid better get a moooooove on!” Sam groaned at the awful pun. “This traffic is udderly ridiculous! Looks like she's late for her date at the moooooovies!” 

“Diana!” Sam groaned. 

“I got more! What a coooowincidence that we'd get stuck on this road! I'm gonna milk this opportunity as much as I can. What do you call a cow that's fallen over? Ground beef! When you get milk from a forgetful cow, is it called milk of amnesia?” 

Sam rolled his eyes, trying to ignore Diana leaning in his space trying to get him to laugh at her puns, relieved when the cars ahead started moving again. “Looks like they've moooved on.”

“Ha!” Se pointed at him in victory. “Knew you were fun! Alright. Let's get this show on the road.”

Sam shook his head in reluctance before pushing the gas pedal forward and made their way into town.

It was almost quaint. The two of them walked up and down Main Street arm in arm dressed like a stereotypical married couple from a department store ad, chatting up anyone who would listen to them, making sure everyone caught the fake wedding rings on their hands. Diana pulled off the act so well, Sam began to wonder if she really was who she seemed to be when around her sister, but that thought hit the garbage bin as she leaned over and made a gagging motion behind the back of a townswoman who seemed to think oatmeal cookies should be sugar free at the next bake sale and “would Maria be willing to make a batch?”

Susan had been very on top of things when they finally made their way to their “new home”. It was small, but it was right across from the town square and had a white picket fence with a trellis for ivy to climb. The house was already furnished and Sam hoped it was a rental and not something that Matthew and Maria Jones had an actual mortgage on. 

Once all the doors and windows were locked and the curtains were drawn, Diana threw herself onto the couch, face first, and let out a frustrated albeit muffled scream. 

Sam sighed. “Well that was weird. But it seemed we made a good first impression on the townspeople, so there's that.” Diana lifted her head off the cushions long enough to give him a bitchface. “Yeah, yeah. Ok. It sucked a lot and we can't change that, but we should work this to our advantage and get them to like us enough to get us in that church basement.”

“I know…” Diana droned more to the couch than to Sam, who seated himself in the armchair opposite her. “But they're still a bunch of pricks.” Her phone rang before she finished her sentence. She picked it up, pushing herself into a sitting position. “Yo, lemme put you on speaker.”

Diana placed the phone face up on the seriously outdated coffee table and hit speaker, Susan's voice ringing clearly, if not tinny. “We reconned the neighbourhood. The woman who stopped Dean is Julia Fitzgibbins, her husband Charles has worked with her at the church since they were both teenagers. He handles the finances and she does the events.”

“Oh of course she does.” Diana mumbled under her breath. 

“Julia is close friends with Annette who organizes a scrapbook club with several other housewives in the neighbourhood, as well as a jogging group, which has most of the same crowd as the scrapbooking club and the event planning committee at the church. Diana, I think you should casually run into them tomorrow morning on their usual jog. Sam,” there was rustling of paper on the other end of the phone for a moment before her voice became more clear. “I think you'll have to go to confession.”

“What?” Sam and Diana questioned at the same time. 

“Hey, I know it sounds stupid, but hear her out.” Dean spoke now, voice authoritarian. “These guys seem super uptight and good little husbands who do everything their wives tell them to, but we've been following them all day. The so called deacon? We followed him and Charles to a strip club. They're sinning alright.” A light smacking noise came in from the opposite end. “Ow, hey!” Diana poked Sam, mouthing ‘she just smacked him’ and smirked. “It's true!” Dean exclaimed. 

“Okay, so what? I just go in there and confess that I dream of other women besides my wife? Or what?” Sam rolled up his sweater sleeves, the house too warm for it. 

More rustling on the other line before Susan came in again. “These disappearances seem to focus around this time of year more frequently over the past decade so I think that church is somehow trying to keep on a schedule for something. I'm not certain but I think maybe going along the lines of wanting to punch someone for cutting you off would be better.” Susan emailed them profiles of every member of the church and whatever dirt they had on them several moments later, and they all went over the plan several times before Diana’s yawns became too much to ignore. Sam offered to take the couch tonight and Diana retired upstairs.

Not an hour after he had drifted off however, he began to hear screams. Taking the steps two at a time, gun in hand, Sam burst through the door only to find his fake wife thrashing on the bed, unable to wake from her nightmare. “Diana! Diana, it's just a dream, wake up. Dia-” she flailed and grabbed him but the neck, pinning him to the floor for a beat before realizing what just happened. 

“Oh my GOD Sam!” She slid off him, hands pressing to her eyes, pushing down the tears that threatened to come. “I'm so sorry, I'm so- I'm so sorry. Stupid, stupid, stupid!” Sam reached for her shoulders, trying to ground her. “It was- they stopped for so many years but they- I should have saved them- we never should have been there! There's no such thing as a good war. Oh GOD, I'm so sorry Sam.”

“Diana…” Sam gently pulled her hands from her face, the only light in the room coming from the street lamp outside. “What war? Who are you talking about?” 

Her jaw set into a hard line. He knew that face, he'd seen it on Dean and even John too many times to count. “Afghanistan.” 

“You…” Sam shuffled himself into a better sitting position in front of her. “You were a soldier? An actual soldier? Army?” She nodded numbly. “How many…”

“Two tours. Susan needed nursing school and mom needed full time care. We never should have been in that country, never should have-” she gulped, voice going heavy. “Never should have been in that city. All those children.” She looked up at him, shaking now. “They were innocent, they never asked for- I couldn't save them Sam. There were so many and I should have but I couldn't, and I- they haunt me still. No- no way I can-” Sam collected her to his chest, letting her cry it out. It made sense now, her tough facade. She did what she had to do her family could survive, even if it meant not everyone else would. 

“Should I call Susan?” Diana shook her head quickly. “Your… lover? Do they know about…?” 

“They know.” She croaked. “They knew everything. And they're asleep now, I don't want to wake anyone.” She pulled away. “Can we just watch tv and go over tomorrow's plan again?” Sam nodded, a sad smile trying to brighten her a bit, but it didn't work. Diana didn't go back to sleep that night. 

\--------

The running group infiltration had been such a success that Sam didn't even need to go to confession that day as they were both invited to a barbecue at the church later that evening. As they left their little rental - Diana had bought oatmeal cookies for the pushy lady from the day before whom they found out was Darla - Sam left the back door unlocked so Dean and Susan could slip in once they were out. 

The church itself wasn't as impressive as other churches the hunters had been to before, but it had an honest to goodness backyard that many churches didn't have. It was awfully suspicious that there was a patio out back with a state of the art barbecue and no gravestones, but Susan did mention it being more cult than organized religion. The head of the church - pastor Julian Rickson - was the very definition of a cult leader. His eyes were dead and he reeked of new money, walking out of the church in a designer suit. 

“Welcome!” His voice boomed out over the small crowd, standing on a chair to make himself taller than everyone else. “Our winter sure was a long one, and the spring could not have come any sooner! Let us all celebrate this beautiful weather, and let us all welcome our newest parishioners Mr and Mrs Matthew Jones!” A round of applause resonated throughout the crowd, Rickson climbing down to grab a half rack of ribs from the BBQ with his bare hands. 

Before Diana could comment about it to Sam, Julia Fitzgibbins dragged her away to bring her to the running group. “Now, I don't want to pry,” but she did anyway. “I couldn't help but overhear you screaming in the middle of the night last night! And a little birdie told me that you and Matthew moved from the big city because of… marital issues.” Sam was close enough to hear parts of the comment, but he saw the looks on the women's faces when Diana turned her evil smirk on them. 

“Actually Julia,” Diana replied sticky sweet. “I don't know if you're aware, but some individuals are very loud during a love making session and I just couldn't control my volume last night and for that, I apologize.” She lied. “Although the real reason we moved away was because…” Diana made a show of looking around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, even with Sam still in due and earshot. “I had a brush with cancer. Very scary. I wanted a change, a chance to reconnect with a community, a church who didn't know me just as “the cancer survivor’. I would love to help people and have them refer to me as just Maria or Mrs Jones.” As predicted, the ladies all fawned over Diana and her fake story, Julia pulling her into a hug. Diana carefully swiped the keys off her and handed them off to Sam as he ‘came to check on her.’ Diana let him leave to make a copy while she stalled for several long moments as he made a pressing of each and every key. Once he was done, she grabbed onto Julia’s friend Annette into a hug, slipping it into her purse, diverting the blame onto the other woman to give cover as she slipped out. 

Diana speed dialled Susan to let her know to come tonight, Sam started a conversation with the husbands about sports and that kept them all preoccupied from the fact that they were planning on storming the church later. 

\------------

Staking out the church with Susan from the truck was decent. If not awkward. Susan had gotten coffee from the gas station and was polishing off her third pack of twizzlers of the weekend. 

“So… the long hair? I mean, you're a hunter and a nurse, it just-”

“My mom used to braid my hair every day before school. She..” Susan sighed as she took a sip from her coffee cup. “She kept her hair long too. We have the same hair. She used to say we were the Rapunzuelles of the mid west. But we wouldn't wait in a tower, just use our hair as whips if someone was being a jerk. Diana's hair used to be long too, until she joined the army and started to dye it Blonde like some type of pop star trying to rebrand their image.” They laughed, the truck filling with their light voices.

“She seemed like a good mom.”

Susan's face twisted. 

“What?”

“It's just- she tried, she really did. They were young when Diana was born. They were barely out of college and had no idea what they were doing but they made it work. When I was born, it-” she put her cup down, rubbing at her face. It seemed to be the go to habit for the Wilsons. “She had schizophrenia. She..” Dean put his own cup down and turned to face her better. “She tried her best. Taking her meds, going to therapy, everything. Dad tried to make everything an adventure for us, but when I was about eight, she started to say that angels were talking to her. I- now that we know angels actually exist, I don't know if it was actually true or if it really was her illness, but… it got bad. She would stand in the middle of our living room naked, covered in mud and branches, wielding a freakin sword. It…” she looked down at her hands, clasped together loosely in her lap. “It was terrifying. Dad tried to put her in a mental institution but she cried so much when she heard and he couldn't do it. Then, a damn vampire took her while she wandered the streets one night and that sword came in handy.” She chuckled dryly. 

“And you guys started hunting.”

“And we started hunting. Dad sold the house and bought that trailer from an old friend, and we traveled from state to state as he home schooled us. He picked up work every so often, mostly substitute teaching positions.”

“He was a teacher?”

“They both were. Dad taught high school math, mom taught science. Traveling in that trailer was tough, but we always met someone new, someone who needed help and were greatful for us. Mom used to sing us the Ghostbusters™ theme song when she put us to bed.”

Dean laughed, his whole body shaking. “No she didn't”

Susan chuckled too. “Oh yeah, she did. We had Ghostbusters™ sheets, pillows, pjs, pencil cases, she even made me and Diana the costumes one Halloween and we wore them to a hunt. It was pretty damn cool. You know, for two dorky kids.”

They laughed. It felt good to laugh with someone, and Dean had missed being able to have a genuine conversation with another person that didn't end in screams or tears. 

“So um. You don't have to tell me, but… how..?”

“Dad died when a drunk driver hit him. We were on our way out of the grocery store and I dropped my ice cream. He kept walking to the car while I tried picking it up and wham. Right there in the parking lot in the middle of the afternoon. Diana and mom were back at the trailer cleaning the fridge out, and I just stood there, fifteen and unable to do anything but scream.” She pulled out a chain around her neck that had been hidden under her shirt. There was a ring on it, plain gold. “The only thing I have left of him save for photos. It- he was a good man. He really tried and it was wearing on him. If it weren't a drunk driver, it would have been a heart attack from all the stress or some ghost throwing him out a window. It- its never been something we could just...get over. But it hurts a little less knowing that he didn't suffer.” 

Dean put an arm on her shoulder, trying to ground the both of them with the action. “The pain never goes away, but he clearly loved you.”

“Yeah. I got lucky. A parent who actually knows how to parent.”

“Yeah.” Dean wanted to ask her what that was like but he didn't. They knew how he and Sam were raised, hearing it from every hunter out there, so it made little sense to talk about himself at that moment. One day, he thought. 

Dean's phone beeped with the update of a text message from Sam. Go time. They slipped from the cab of the truck and slinked over to the back of the church, Sam holding open a door for them as they snuck in. The back door lead to a staircase, the left set going up to the main hall with the pews and alter, the right going down into a basement. They moved down to take a look, finding a few rooms set up for Sunday school, a storage room for chairs and Christmas decorations, and a bathroom. It seemed normal save for a few drops of blood in front of a wall. A very poorly maintained wall with a gouging of sheetrock missing. 

“Hey.” Dean signalled for the others. “Found something.” 

Diana and Susan felt along the wall while Sam looked at the blood, trying to determine whose it was when Dean accidentally leaned on something, a door swinging forward a few inches, built in and hidden behind cheap Sheetrock. It swing forward, getting caught on something. Their flashlights all swung in the direction of the blockage only to gag when they saw it was a foot. An amputated foot that seemed to have been rotting in the basement for years. 

“Secret torture basement! I told you!” Susan pointed a triumphant finger in Diana's face, flashlight bobbing in her other hand. 

Diana pulled a face and turned to inspect the door more closely. “These carvings on the back… don't they look Aramaic to you? But some of this text here - below the sun and moon carving - they're Gaelic. And this but at the bottom, is that…?”

“It's Sanskrit.” Sam shone his light from his crouching position. “This is very weird.” 

Diana pulled out her phone to take several pictures before pulling out a pair of gloves from her back pocket. “This here? This is the symbol for immortality, but then this one here is for death. It's almost…. we gotta go.”

“What?” Dean asked.

Diana straightened herself out and pulled on Susan's arm. “This is the door to immortality but the person who gets trapped inside, they die.”

“And their life force gets sucked out of and placed into another person or being.” Sam finished. “They're using it as a- as a kind of oh GOD. For this kind of power.. we're looking at the works of a demon or goddess.”

Dean pushed his way to walk into the room but Diana hauled him back by his shirt collar. “Oh no you don't. Not till we figure how to stop,,” she gestured to the door, “this out. Until then, stay put.” 

“I couldn't have put it better myself.”

The four hunters turned around to see Julia standing at the opposite end of the room, seemingly popping out of nowhere, not having been there a second before. Diana took the door handle, slammed it closed and shoved the closest desk against it. “Run!” 

Heavy footfalls went up the staircase, echoing inside the church as an applause does in a concert hall - hard, fast, and deafening. Susan reached the exit first, finding it wrapped with chains and welded shut. “The ONE TIME I don't have a lock pick of a screwdriver with me!!!” She started for the upper levels, the others hot on her heels. They only made it was far as the first three pews in before a wind picked up, forcing several windows open. 

“Well, well. I knew there was something dark inside your heart Maria. I knew it was soon as I tried your store bought oatmeal cookie.” Julia appeared in front of them. Her left hand was missing several fingers, blood dripping on the wood floor beneath her. 

“This isn't you Julia!” Sam tried to reason with her. “You're being possessed by a ghost, let us help you.”

Julia’s laugh was hollow. “Possessed, huh? No, I think not. See, it's not possession when you call soon the spirit and bind them to your soul.” 

“But why?” Sam asked, motioning to Dean behind his back. 

The Julia suit chuckled. “For power of course!” 

Dean slowly walked towards the altar where Sam had pointed. Just sticking out underneath it was another alter, much smaller one on castor wheels with a corner sticking out. Dean gently pulled on it and saw a spell book open, the page detailing how to bind a ghost to a person. The worn stained bones where several decades old, if not more, the stench of incense still lingering. 

Susan raised her gun slowly. “But there are other ways of getting power. Money, influence-” 

“But not absolute power! The first leader of our church was the most spiritual being in all of history! We each are chosen to carry on their legacy and be a host, but you must be strong to channel their spirit. And I was - I AM - the strongest of our congregation.” She raised her arms slowly, every bible in the room started levitating, moving close to her and sorting themselves into neat piles by her feet. “See? That's all me. And now-”

Diana fired off a salt round into Julia's chest, the woman screaming in a moment of frustration. “Enough!” The ghost possessing Julia flicked her arm and threw Diana through the largest stain glass window, a rain of glass and blood sprayed down on them. Susan charged full force with her gun, shooting off round after round of salt bullets, each hurting Julia, but the ghost still seemed happy as a clam in its host body. Julia ripped the gun from her grasp, Susan punching her in the face in retaliation. Julia’s face sizzled when the iron ring touched her skin but it only made the grin on her face bigger. “That's cute, but this isn't a possession, it's a binding contract.”

“Well then let's try to break it then huh?” Dean hit lit the altar but other than the smell of burning animal bone, nothing happened. 

Julia laughed. “Stupid hunter! That only keeps me from being bound to this vessel. But it won't kill me!” The white smoke flew out of her mouth, streaks of silver dancing with it. Once it all disappeared out the now broken window, Julia passed out, crumpling to the floor with an audible thud

Sam leaned over what remained of the stain glass window to look on Diana. “Hey! Are you okay Diana?”

“Peachy.” Diana let her head fall back onto the shrubbery she fell on, sigh defeated, and painful.  
\--------------

Dean pulled the comforter off the bed, pulling the sheets to one side as he got the bed ready for the girls. He could hear Diana cursing in the bathroom as she tried to shower with only one arm and he thought she could use the help. When the water finally shut off and the bathroom door opened, Dean was halfway done through his second episode of the Twilight Zone on the motel TV. Diana had wrapped her arm in plastic wrap when she showered and the wrap was still stuck to her, and she struggled to get it off with her hair in a towel wrapped on her head.

“Here.” Dean stood, motioning to the plastic wrapped arm and Diana extended it to him gingerly. She pulled the towel off her head with her one good arm and toweled her hair off when the motel door burst open. The two raised their eyes and in the doorway stood a woman. A beautiful woman. A terrifying woman with mid length black hair, green eyes and a look of pure unfiltered anger on her face. 

“You!” She pointed at Dean and stalked forward, hunting her prey. Dean pulled a knife from the holster on his hip and she in turn pulled one from her leather jacket. Diana jumped between them and held her hands up. 

“Wait! Lynn, it’s not- it’s not what this looks like!”

“You know her?”

“Yes! Ugh, just, can you two put your knives away before someone walks by the VERY open door and decides to call the police?!” The dark haired woman - Lynn - steals her gaze at dean for a second longer before turning back to slam the door shut. “Okay! Thank you. Lynn, this is Dean. Winchester? Remember?”

Lynn looked between Dean and Diana before focusing on the bandage covering most of Diana’s forearm. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything! The ghost threw me through a stain glass window-”

“Stain glass window?! Do you know how lucky you are right now? Stained glass could tear you to shreds!”

“I know that! What are you doing here? I thought you had another symposium-”

“And leave you here to go into a church alone and get thrown through more stained glass windows? No, I think not! Susan called me as soon as she realized you guys needed back up.”

“Oh my GOD!” Diana looked at the ceiling in disbelief, forgetting for a moment that she was injured as she threw her hands up in frustration only to wince at the pain.

“Don’t blaspheme. Let me see your arm.” Lynn’s face turned soft as she moved to take Diana’s arm in her hand.

“Suz sewed me up pretty good, it just hurts like hell cuz there was a lot of glass to pick out.” Lynn pulled Diana towards the table and forced her to sit down with a strong hand on her shoulder as she carefully examined her face and head for glass. “I’m fine Lynn.”

Lynn grunted but kept looking. “I left my bag at the hotel, do you have-”

“In my bag.” Diana looked up at her, hands gone from searching through hair to rest on each side of her face. “Hiya Lynn” She said softly.

“Hey.” Lynn breathed, shoulders slumping and her own anger deflating. Dean stood there, staring at the two women before realizing that he was intruding on a very intimate moment. This was clearly not a new thing for these two and he was the outsider here. He cleared his throat and tried to move back to his bed when the two broke their moment and Lynn’s hands fell away. “I’m going to go change.” She moved to Diana’s duffel and pulled out a few clothes before retreating to the bathroom, Diana’s eyes following her the whole way.

“So…”

“Yeah?” Diana’s face turned to him, expression clearly shouting ‘you wanna try me?’ 

“How - how long you two know each other?”

“About seven years, been together for four.”

“Ah. Symposium?”

Diana's eyes turned soft. “She’s a therapist. Or, rather she’s training to be one. She’s a psychologist right now, but she doesn’t have her own office.”

“Uh, how’d you two, uh, meet?”

Diana raised an eyebrow at him, pulling a can of pop from the cooler. “Well aren’t you Chatty Cathy today?” Dean shrugged. “We met at a hunt. She uh, she used to be a ‘sister wife’ in a FLDS compound.”

He paused halfway to opening his own can, almost dropping it in shock. “No shit?”

“No shit. One of the wives had died during childbirth and started haunt the shit out of the rest of the people on the compound. Full on poltergeist stuff - smashing people through walls, ghost possession, manipulating radio frequencies, everything. Most powerful haunting we’ve ever done and probably ever will do.” Her voice softened a bit. “A couple of kids got badly injured and one fell into a coma. The police had little jurisdiction so we basically went in blind. Turned out the ghost didn’t die because of childbirth, she was strangled to death by one of the leaders. It was terrifying, but once we closed the case, Lynn didn’t want to stay there anymore.” Diana sipped for a beat, putting the can back down on the table with enough force for some of the liquid to threaten to spill out. “We got her out, she ditched her old name and we set her up in Utah with fake papers and everything. Almost a year later we run into her trying to hunt alone and she’s been with us ever since.”

The room was quiet save for the TV. The pipes groaned when Lynn turned on the faucet in the bathroom. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just- after all that she still has her faith?”

Diana chuckled. “You know, faith is a really weird thing. I never believed in GOD, even though my mother swore up and down that the angels spoke to her. I’ve seen angels fall, I’ve seen demons and everything in between and I realize my faith is with people. With humans. But Lynn,” she moved her one good hand in a gesture, “she keeps her faith close to her heart like a sign of comfort. It helps her rationalize all the shit that she’s been through and all the shit the rest of the world has been through. It’s not for everyone, but if it brings her comfort, who am I to take that away from her? She’s not tried to convert me to it, and she never intends to, so if that means I have to keep ‘blaspheming’ to a minimum, so be it.”

“Wow. Thats- you know, I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“Mmhmm. So,” she took a long drag from the can before turning fully in the chair to face him. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I dunno, I just spilled about my entire relationship to you, thought maybe you'd drop a nugget on me.”

Dean laughed but it was painful and without humour. “There was someone once, but it didn't work out.”

“Hmm. Didn't like the hunter life? I get it. Before Lynn, I didn't see any use dating as a hunter.”

“No, it wasn't that it just-” he huffed. “It's complicated.”

“Do you miss them?” 

Dean looked up at her use of ‘them’ instead of ‘her’. She had a look on her face as if she knew something he didn’t and her stressing the word so strongly seemed like an insinuation. “Yeah. I - I had a normal life there for a moment. I even-” he felt a lump in his throat. “I felt peaceful for once.”

Silence fell over the motel room as neither of them knew what to say. After a beat, Diana stood and walked to sit opposite Dean on the other bed. “Normal is overrated.” She tapped his can with hers and they both took a drag as Lynn walked back in, wearing a worn AC/DC t-shirt and pj shorts instead of her button down and skirt, duffle in hand.

“What are you two talking about?”

Diana smirked as the duffel bounced on the bed. “How overrated normal is and how badass we all are as hunters.”

“Hah! Yes, awesome isn’t the word I would use when one is flung through a window by a poltergeist but sure.”

“It was a ghost possession, not a poltergeist!” Diana's tone almost whining. 

“Do you really want to argue me on this?” Lynn stared down at her girlfriend with a heat deal of annoyance. She don't cross her arms over her chest so Dean assumed it was a good thing. 

Diana sighed and placed her can down on the side table. “No.” Her tone soft with annoyance. 

Lynn nodded once, zipping up the bag before climbing onto the bed next to her, curling up along her side and holding her one good hand. “Which one is this?” She motioned to the tv. 

Dean sipped at his own pop, turning the volume up. “The one where the convict in solitary on an asteroid gets an android.”

“Oh, I love this one.” They fell into companionable silence as they watched, occasionally adding their own commentary during the commercial breaks. After their fourth consecutive episode, San and Susan walk in with bags of food and supplies. 

“Twilight Zone Marathon?” Susan tripped over the shoes by the front door.’l

“Yeah. Hello Susan. You've been gone an awfully long time.” Lynn moved off the bed to help with the food. 

Sam sighed dramatically. He placed his bags on the table, taking them out of the bag for easier organization. “Yeah, turns out wrecking the town’s favourite church gets you blacklisted from all their establishments. We had to drive two towns over for food. We had to reheat in the trailer. Should be good though.” 

Sam and Lynn shook hands, Sam seeming to have been given more background on her than Dean had as they sorted through the food. Susan sat next to her sister, checking her over to make sure she hadn't missed anything in her original once over and dean felt something akin to déjà vu. It wasn't like this exact scene had ever happened to him before, but the soft conversations and the ease of it all reminded him of many different points in his life where he felt safe. At Bobby’s one year for thanksgiving eating KFC after wasting a ghost and Bobby pouring them each their first shot. At Jody’s for dinner with the girls and trying to melt into the chair so they'd stop talking about sex. Even just having more than him and Sam together, acting like a big dysfunctional family does. Caring for one another, getting on each other's nerves, and fighting over the last of the sauce. 

A hand landed on his shoulder and he snapped his gaze up to see Susan with a concerned look on her face. “You okay Dean?”

“Huh? Yeah, yeah. Just zoned out for a second there. Tired.”

\------------------

Diana would not stop pouting but Susan paid her no mind. “Come on guys!” She whined. “You guys need me!”

“No, you're tapping out.” Lynn said, the finality in her tone strong. “You're injured and I won't have you dying because of it. Stay. Here. Don't do anything stupid.”

“When have I ever-” 

“You want that in alphabetical or chronological order?” Lynn sasses back, checking the clip on her gun. Diana refused to talk the rest of the day as the rest of them tried to figure out a game plan. 

“So,” Dean rolled up his sleeves, jacket bunching around his elbows. “It this room is sucking out life forces and shoving them into new people, which life force - aka ghost - how do they choose a new one and how do they do it?”

“This text here.” Lynn slides her phone to Sam. “This is sandscript, right? Except it's basically gibberish to read.” She stood front the table to rummage through Diana’s bag. “Hypotheticals, it we torch the room and the entire church, what would happen? Hypothetically.” 

Sam chewed his gum loudly for a moment. He opened the book dedicated to ancient texts and flipped through it quickly. “Uhhh…” he jabbed a page with his finger. “It says here, ‘the door of imortality is the connection from the land of the living to the land of the dead. A living soul cannot enter and live, but can however request to have a loved one’s deceased soul come back for a fortnight to visit. It currently resides..’ oh. In India. So…” 

“It's not the real door.” Diana groaned from the bed. They looked at her laying flat on her back, staring at the ceiling and presumably counting the dots of the popcorn ceiling design. “The real door is covered in gold and is thousands of years old. It's also covered in snakes and has the plaque ‘Na Ga, gataagataM, Asanti sarvabhuuta.’ Or ‘no go. Life and death. Restlessness to all living entities.’ “ she pulled up the photo on her phone of the door she had taken. Dean took the phone from her, and she barely moved. “That text isn't just Sanskrit. It's a mix of Latin and Gaelic too. It's old magic but the door can't be more than a century, maybe a century and a half? This door, well, whoever made it totally messed it up. The text on the top reads, roughly ‘the soul who binds us,’ ” she pitched her voice low to be dramatic. “ ‘Is indeed the soul to bind us. We walk the earth and spread our word, forever coming and going as we please, forever seeking redemption. Forever,’ there's a lot of forevers for some reason? Anyways, ‘forever may the gods find favour in us; may the moon bless us with knowledge, and the sun with longevity. May we never see the inside of the door again.’”

“All that on the front, huh?” Dean joked, but he could see how small and curling the text was in the photo. “So… what? Do we set it on fire? Do we need a ritual?”

Susan pushed the laptop towards Sam and Lynn. “This myth blog says that if the door is a gateway, then destroying it would mean souls would escape and wreak havoc on the earth.”

“It's not the real door!” Diana groaned loudly in pain as she sat upright. The sun filtering from the curtains hit her in the face and she winced. “That what I'm trying to tell you! The real door is in India. You said the disappearances go back a few decades, right?” Susan nodded. “This door is more of a failed arts and crafts project on a mega huge scale. The thing possessing Julie said ‘the first leader’. Check to see who that is, and I guarantee you that he spent time in Ireland, England and India and decided to make his own door.” She flopped back onto the bed, whining at how the motion jostled her arm. 

“Huh.” Sam pulled Susan's laptop closer to him, doing a quick google search to find that Diana was right. “So Diana, does it say how to get rid of it?”

“I very much doubt that he'd write it in there.” Diana sighed. “I doubt it a whoooole bunch. Like, a lot. But hey, try tempting it with fire and see what happens there. Also, see if this dude is buried somewhere. Burning his bones might do the trick so you won't have to burn the whole thing. The magic might be tied directly to him.”

Lynn dragged the laptop towards her, quickly pulling up pages. “ ‘Ezekiel Harrington the second -’ why is it always the rich ones? ‘- was a historian and an anthropologist. Born in 1910, Harrington started his career traveling to India and Nepal to witness the break from the English colonies. In his first book, he spoke heavily about the importance of salt and how it purified the soul, many believing he referred to the 200 mile march in protest of the British exclusive rights on the mineral. He later spent several years in Ireland, England and Wales to get both sides of the story, only to find himself more immersed in the mythology surrounding the countries rather than the current political climate.’ He wrote like, nine books but there's a quote in here in the third he published in ‘47.” Lynn opened another page and read aloud. “ ‘There are few things in life as pure as the soul of a person, the sound of genuine laughter, and the feel of warm socks.’”

“Wow.” Dean leaned back in his chair. “Dude was a poet and an emo kid before it was cool.”

Everyone rolled their eyes. “ ‘In an effort to find what makes a soul, I have found myself yet again in India. The architecture of the temples astound me and a guide has brought me to a place of gold, decorated in snakes and placards faded with time. The door to the temple never opens, but that doesn't mean it is closed. Quite the opposite, a person can always enter, but leaving is tricky.’ That's the entire quote and there's a few pictures but they basically are what Diana described. The founder built that room, that door with the purpose of crossing over. Now, either he failed, or he did it on purpose, either way, I say we salt and burn his bones.”

Sam nodded. “Okay, but I just googled him and his body was never found.”

Diana blew out a long breath. “Welp. Guess we're fucked then. Anyone want to get ice cream?”

“We’re not fucked, and you know I can't have ice cream right now.” Susan rolled her braid into a bun and secured it with an elastic from her wrist. “It's a cult. One that puts people in a room, where their soul leaves their body and enters another one’s, right? But the body goes… where?” She paused for it to click in their heads. “They can't just dump them, so they bury them in the church plot or hide them in the walls somewhere. No one would think to look for dead bodies in a church cemetery if they were looking for a recently missing person. I bet they dug over top an existing grave and stacked the bodies.” 

Lynn ran to the bathroom and vomited in the toilet, huffing for air. “You okay babe?” Diana called. Lynn groaned as she heaved again. “Dude, you know you gotta warn her about cemeteries.” She eyes Susan. 

Her sister put her hands up in defence. “I forgot about that, sorry. Sorry Lynn!” Lynn grunted from the bathroom, the tap running. “But anyways. I bet they kept something of his, maybe even his bones somewhere in that basement.”

“What was that about salt again?” Dean asked. 

“He thought salt was basically the main ingredient… in a… soul. Holy shit!” Sam scrambled to his feet, going to the Impala and coming back with a thick, worn book. “I was reading this about different methods religions used in making their houses of worship. Here, ‘there are many religions who hold salt and water in high regard, many believing it as a way to purify one’s soul. In the Northern- Eastern countries of South America, the salinity from the ocean is unusually high, and many structures withstanding the test of time for centuries. The ruins of Tazumal for instance, barely look like ruins at all, the salinity in the clay withstanding the elements and even the conquering nations that came in the 1500’s.’ Well technically Tazumal is more North West of the continent but still. I think Harrington made the room with clay of a high salt content, so trying to set it on fire would be counter productive.”

“Some cultures believe that fire is cleansing too.” Lynn wiped her mouth as she headed back to the table. “So fire’s out. Maybe lava could work. Anyone know how to haul a subterranean structure to the nearest active volcano?” 

Dean laughed but stopped when he realized she was serious. “Maybe we could crack the foundation of it? If it's not a real door it shouldn't pose any risks for souls to escape.” The room went quiet. It was so unsettling as the entire room stared at him. “What?”

Diana pulled herself up to reach over the side of the bed and clap him on the shoulder. “Dean, you're a goddamned genius.” 

\-----------

Diana stayed back at the motel while the rest of them hunkered in the rental across the church. Julia hadn't ratted them out yet, so they could still pull of something if they had enough time. Lynn pulled her hair back as she memorized the map of the church that Diana and Sam drew for her. Dean steered clear of her in case she felt like stabbing him. Obviously Diana and Lynn were in love, and if you find your lover in a motel room with a strange man, you'd end up getting a bit paranoid whatever the circumstances surrounding how they got there. And Lynn clearly knew her way around a shotgun, cleaning it in the kitchen as he watched. 

“So Dean, you and Lynn will go look for the Harrington’s remains and Susan and I will try to distract whatever person the spirit’s possessing this time.” Sam pocketed a few golfball sized things. “These are holy water and salt smoke bombs? How exactly do they work?” 

Susan showed the brothers how to pull the tab, “and you throw them at the target and they shatter. It's more like an on contact fire extinguisher from the Victorian era than a smoke bomb. Although, demons and ghosts do the smoking on their own.” She threw up finger guns before giving everyone a few handfuls of the contraptions. “Diana and I made them on high school after Theodore Mitchcowski showed us how to make real smoke bombs from ping pong balls. Lost of trial and error. Poor Theo lost an eyebrow.”

Lynn slung her gun across her back with a makeshift sling from the ace bandages from the first aid kit and the grabbed a shovel, pushing one onto Dean's chest. “You have lighter fluid and the salt?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Lighter?”

“Of course.”

She nodded, stone faced. “Let's go.” She pulled him by the arm of his jacket out the back. Lynn was proving to be more badass by the second as she vaulted herself over the neighbour’s fence with very little effort, shovel still in hand. Guess Diana wouldn't be with a wimp though, he thought. Wonder how they make it work. If I ask her, would she- he was interrupted by his thoughts as he lost his footing going down on the opposite side of the fence. A strong hand grabbed and steadied the foot. He looked to see Lynn shushing him. 

They went over three more fences before they made it to the back of the church, almost getting caught twice by neighbors. Lynn stopped him with a hand on his chest, waiting for Sam and Susan’s signal. Dean saw the Deacon walk in the front of the church, whistling as he walked out of view. “Shit shit shit. The deacon!” He whispered. He pulled his phone out and speed dialed Sam. “The deacon’s coming! Hide!” 

Lynn, of course, did the exact opposite, running towards the gravestones and checking each one with her flashlight. “Hurry up Dean!” Her voice was low. “Look for one with any out of place symbols!”

“But the deacon’s probably-” 

“I know!” She moved to the next stone. “Which means we only have five minutes to find Harrington, dig him up, and burn his remains.” 

“Shit. Shit shit shit!” Dean jogged to the other side of the small cemetery. No stone looked out of place, nor were there any other symbols out of place. “I got nothing!” 

“Fuuuuuuuuck. Dean!” Lynn gestured for him to come over enthusiastically. He jogged over and she pulled him down to eye level. “Look! This grass? Isn't grass. It's fake turf.” She crouched down to pull it away. Underneath lay a thin layer of dirt once swept away, revealing a large wooden trap door. “Fuck, I don't like this.”

Dean breathed through his mouth. “Me neither.” He motioned for her to stand back and pulled on the door. It gave a little resistance, but when it opened up, the stench was unbelievable. There, not three feet down was a pit seven feet long by three feet wide. The pit was full of corpses. Dean turned away from the pit to breath through his flannel, seeing Lynn trying desperately not to vomit. He began pouring salt and lighter fluid when a large crash from the church bellowed. 

Susan had kicked open the back door so hard it fell off the hinges, falling down the steps like a broken slinky. She ran unevenly towards them as Sam backed out of the church throwing bomb after bomb. The deacon was slowing down but still kept coming. “Light it up!!!” Susan shrieked as she tumbled to the ground. 

“How dare you!” The deacon’s voice rang out, no longer that of a man, but of a tortured and old soul trapped between worlds. “This is MY DOMAIN!” He flicked his hand to make Sam fly but the moose man didn't move. “What- what have you DONE?! You will PAY FOR THIS!!!” 

“Light it up! The room’s gone! He can't come back!” Susan tried crawling to Lynn, but the deacon was faster. He stepped on her leg, putting an enormous amount of pressure, making her cry out. 

“How DARE you desecrate my door?! There is so much filth in this world, and I was the ONLY ONE who was willing to get rid of it! I was helping people. Julia used to be an opium addict before she went through the room!”

“You've killed innocents!” Lynn shouted, letting off a few salt rounds at his head. She kicked down a canister of lighter fluid into the pit. “They didn't deserve to die!” 

“Oh, but they didn't die! They entered in a contract! They lived inside me, inside Julia. They were rid of their sick and filthy bodies to be REBORN!”

“Well maybe it's time for this contract to end.” Dean lit his lighter, throwing it onto the gasoline soaked corpses, the smell of burning fabric and human remains unbearable. But yet, they stood, watching the ghost engulf in blue flames, the spirits inside the deacon finally free. Once the blue flames desolated, the deacon leaned over, vomited and passed out into the soft grass. 

“Fuck yeah!” Dean shouted. Lynn and San stared at him in disgust as Susan tried to stand. “What?” 

\---------////////----------

Dean awoke with a pinching in his back and rolled over to grab an Asprin when he noticed Diana sitting on the floor leaning against the bed and reading something intently on her phone. Lynn stirred from the bed and gently moved herself to the foot of the bed to see what her girlfriend was doing, careful not to wake Susan. 

“What's that?” She whispered. 

“Just trying to get through that book Lynn’s boss recommended. It's not bad. I think maybe it borders on exciting.”

Lynn chuckled softly, running her hands through Diana's hair. “Please don't do that again.”

Diana put the phone down, turning a bit to see Lynn a little better in the dark. “Which part: getting tossed through a window or leaving the bed while you're still asleep?”

Lynn rolled her eyes so exaggerated that her whole head moved with them. “All of it I guess? You really worry me when you go on hunts without me. I know I should have been with you-”

“No.” She turned more fully, grasping Lynn's hand with her own. “We decided that we'd get our lives how we wanted and that includes you getting fully certified with your own office, Susan working as an nurse practitioner and me doing my coding at home with two dogs and two cats running underneath my feet. Sometimes we hunt, just to keep our muscles from atrophy,” Lynn smiled, “and we can't always be there for each other to swoop in and save the day. That's just how life is, and it isn't your fault. Sure, maybe if you were here, I wouldn't have been thrown out that window. But maybe the ghost would have possessed you and broken Susan's leg. Or thrown Dean out the window instead. You can't know every possible outcome in life because there are too many variables. You know that. Hell, that's what you tell all your patients.”

“Don't say hell.”

It was Diana's turn to chuckle as she lay her cheek on the bed, Lynn's cheek on top of her head. They stayed like that a moment, eyes closed and hands clasped before Lynn pulled back. She grabbed Diana's face as she rose and kissed her on the forehead. “At least promise me you'll call for backup before you need it. You call me and tell me you've called Jesse or Andrew, heck, even call Andrea and let me know you two aren't going into something that you can't come out of.”

“You got it babe.” And then they were kissing. It was sweet and slow and Dean shut his eyes and pretended he was asleep to give them privacy. Yet again he felt like a third wheel, even though Sam and Susan were asleep and still very much in the room. Lynn broke off and went back to bed, and when the rustling of sheets stopped, Dean opened his eyes again to see Diana staring right at him. She motioned to the door before grabbing her boots and leaving to go outside. Dean checked to see Lynn had fallen asleep and Sam started snoring softly before following. 

She walked towards the diner across the street from the motel and looked behind her to see Dean jogging to catch up. “You know, this has been my life on and of for the past thirteen years, and it kind of sucks, but we help people. But there's always more we can do. And for once, I've decided that maybe helping ourselves get a life that actually makes money while we help people is exactly what we need.”

He mulled about it for a moment before replying. “I think you're right. Stability is good for you too.”

“I won't fight you on that. What time is it? Five? They should be serving breakfast by now.” They grabbed a booth and swapped ridiculous stories until the sun caught up with them. It was nice to have someone in the life actually have a life outside of hunting. Diana was easy to talk to, and she wasn't like the other hunters Sam and him had met. She didn't gossip about the Winchesters behind their backs, and she saw them for who they were: people. Terrifying people who murdered things for a living, but people none the less. Not legends, not monsters, just two men with a world ton of hurt and death under their belt. 

“But that's the way it is. They talk about us a lot, huh?” Dean sipped his coffee. 

Diana's brow furrowed. “Yeah. They don't like you much, but whether it's because they're scared of you or they wish they were as strong as you, I'll never know. I mostly just text with them and co-ordinate where everyone is so there's no overlap, so I don't hear as much as I could. But I'd rather not be a part of that gossip when I could send embarrassing photos of them all in their underwear being pied in the face.” 

“What?” Deanaughed into his coffee. 

“Here.” She pulled her phone out and tapped on the keys a few times before pulling up a photo. A tall man was standing stock still in his plaid boxers, without a shirt and whipped cream all over his face and chest. Susan was laughing and moving away from him with the pie plate, blurry. It looked like they were at Asa Fox’s cabin if he remembered it clearly, and Susan had to have been a few years younger as her hair was only clavicle length. 

Dean laughed. “Who is that?” 

“Jesse. We went to Asa’s for the weekend - before we met Lynn - and the five of us decided we'd learn to make pie at one of those drop in cooking classes. Jessie tripped getting his to the oven and it went all over Susan's hair, so she wanted to get back at him with a whipped cream pie to the face. It was great!” They laughed together for a spell before the rest of their group joining them. Lynn practically sat in Diana's lap as she nursed her coffee, still half asleep and her hair a mess in a ponytail. Susan and Sam were in the middle of discussing some book and Dean felt like he could snapshot this moment forever. 

“You know,” Susan pulled Dean aside as they started to pack their vehicles at the campsite where they left the trailer and Impala, all ready to head home. “We don't live in the trailer full time anymore, so if you ever want to hang out, just to have a weekend of nothing, you should call.” 

“Yeah, yeah I'd like that. You know, I've always wanted to learn how to make banana cream pie from scratch.” 

Susan laughed, whole body shaking and had to grip onto Dean's shoulder for support. “Sounds- ah sounds good.”


	3. Chapter Three: Pain and Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse and Cesar pass along information of a possible ghost murdering folks in a small town in the middle of nowhere onto Sam and Dean’s laps. The victims were all queer, so Lynn and Diana tag along as their back-up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: There’s mention of homophobia, homophobic actions, homophobic and transphobic language, mentions of suicide, and a bunch of homophobes getting their faces smashed in. Normal warnings of mentioned alcohol abuse, though no actual drunk characters.

“So get this-”

“Nope!” Dean shouted, shoving eggs into his mouth 

“Dude! You're not even gonna let me finish?”

“No.” Dean took a swig of orange juice, draining the rest of the glass as if it were a shot. “It's been three months of nonstop on the road, hunt after hunt after hunt. I just want one week of nothing to do except whatever we want to do. Maybe we could just go get some new clothes. I have so many holes on my socks they might as well be rags.”

Sam moved the laptop aside before addressing his older brother. “Your idea of a vacation is… buying socks?”

Dean scoffed, levelling his brother with a stare. “I just mean a week where we don't have to worry about ganking something and just do random stuff.”

“Okay Dean, whatever you say.” Sam shook his head, hair falling in his face. 

Dean's phone buzzed, shaking the fork next to it. “Hello?” Dean answered with a mouth full of toast. “Oh hey Jesse. New phone huh? Oh yeah, just peachy, you- uh huh. Uh huh. Yeah. Well, no I guess not but- “ Sam leaned forward a tad, hoping to hear something from the other line while Dean chewed. “Where is it? Yeah, let me just get a pen.” He snapped his fingers impatiently as Sam scrambled to grab tit for him. “Yeah, I got it. What's the town called? Really? Well that's lovely. Yeah, we’ll check it out.” Another pause as Jesse spoke at length. Sam looked at what Dean had written but he'd never heard of such a place. He googled it on his phone and came up with very little save for a few pictures and a map. “Well you and Cesar have to take it easy then. Yeah, no problem. Huh? Uh.. yeah I think Sam has their number. Sure, if you think- yeah, yeah. Okay man. Take care. Tell Cesar we said hi. Okay, bye.” Dean ended the call and lightly tossed the phone onto the table. “Okay, so vacation is currently put on hold for a while.”

“Dean,” Sam huffed, pulling up the coordinates of the town on his laptop. “What even is this place? It looks like it hasn't been updated in decades. Why would Cesar and Jesse want us to take a hunt there?” 

“Well, Sam.” Dean pulled himself from the table, taking his dishes with him. “Cesar fell and broke his ankle so he can't hunt, and Jesse refuses to leave him alone cuz he ‘can't be trusted to sit still’ so we're taking over.”

Sam frowned. “But who does he want us to call?”

“The Ghostbusters!” Dean sang, laughing as he walked to the kitchen. 

“Dean!” 

“Call the Wilsons! It's a homophobic ghost!”

\--------------------------

The town looked straight out of a horror film, if that horror film was shot in the Bible Belt™ during the 60’s in sepia tone; or so the truly heinous decor screamed. Which seemed to be the least upsetting to Sam, who clearly seemed to forget that they were closer to Maine than Georgia. Regardless, the whole place sent a shiver up his spine as he stopped by to ask the park rangers a list of questions before being let in. 

Jesse had emailed them all they had on the case, which was just about as much information as the internet seemed to have on the town itself. Just over a paragraph of town history plus the death announcements of the victims killed this year. The majority of the area they were in seemed to be run by the state rather than municipal government, with very little chance their FBI covers would actually hold up. Sam was more than happy when Susan suggested they go as competing news organizations instead. Sam ran the case over and over in his head as he watched officers slip under the police tape and moved further into the woods where the latests victims lay. 

“Two men and a woman.” Sam turned around to be surprised by a short woman, thin with eyeliner smudged on her cheeks. Her outdated diner uniform wrinkled in places where it was clear it hadn’t seen a washing machine in weeks. “I knew them. Got them coffee just three days ago. They were passing through to go up to Boston. Such-” she pulled a tissue from her purse, wiping at her eyes as fat tears streamed down her face. “They were such kind folks.”

“Anything else you can tell me?” Sam pulled open his notebook, writing notes as quickly as possible. 

The woman shook her head. “Not much. They were really excited to see the museums, I think one of them worked for one? I'm not sure. The boys were recently married and I think the girl was a sister to one of them, but I can't remember which. Oh!” she blew her nose. “They were all so sweet, they even left me a big tip. Our coffee sucks, but they-” she started crying harder, sobs wracking her tiny frame. Sam gently patted her back to console her, looking for someone to take her to sit somewhere else. 

He caught movement on his left and turned to see Dean moving past the tape and into the bushes to get closer to the bodies. Sam rolled his eyes and hoped his brother wouldn't get caught. “Uh, thank you ma'am.” He pulled away from her, arms length to give the indication of comfort but also instilling personal space. “I'll remember to put that in the article. If you'll excuse me…” She waved him off as he moved to finally speak to a ranger. He was thankful ranger Buck Dwiddly had the perfect timing to turn around just when Dean was close enough to the corpses to take pictures. 

“Ranger Dwiddly-”

“Call me Buck!” The ranger’s eyes crinkled at the corners as the warm smile stretched over his face. For a person who just identified three corpses in a small town where nothing happened, he sure did seem joyful. “Ranger Dwiddly was my father.”

Sam nodded. “I wasn't aware it was a family business.” Ranger Buck laughed, belly shaking. “At this early on in your investigation, do you have any suspects?”

Buck rubbed at his bearded chin. “Right now, I got three travelers who stopped in town for two hours for coffee, pie and to refuel, so unless they picked a fight with the gas station attendant or the chef at the diner, I got nothing. I wish I had something, but there's no murder weapon, the only prints to and from the bodies besides our own belong to the victims. No one saw anything, heard anything, and there isn't even any blood. There's some bruising but it's not conclusive at this point. We don't get the medical examiner in from the neighbouring city until tomorrow, so right now,” he pointed behind himself. “Bupkiss. Wish I had more for you Mr. Rafferty, but that's all I got.” He shrugged. 

Sam nodded and thanked the man, looking up just in time to see Dean slipping out of the tape and heading back to the car, none the wiser. Sam waited a beat, then two before joining his brother. “So?”

Dean sighed, jamming the keys into Baby's ignition. “A whole lotta nothin’. There's no blood, no ectoplasm, some EMF but it's hard to tell if it's from a ghost or from all the power lines and cell towers above. Look!” He thrust his phone in Sam's face. “I've got like twelve bars. I could call Mars!” 

“Aliens aren't real Dean.”

Dean scoffed as he started the Impala. “We don't know that. Hell, stranger things have happened.” The rumble of the engine calmed the older man just enough to shrug and breathe deeply. “Hopefully it turns out to be a quick salt and burn and we won't need the Wilsons.”

The thicket of woods was just a few minutes drive from the diner where the victims were last seen, so driving there for lunch seemed to be the best choice. Dean was just about to tear into his burger when Diana flopped down next to him and grabbed at his fries. “Hey!”

“Hey yourself. I'm starving and Lynn won't let me have anything deep fried.” Diana shoved three in her mouth at once, whining as she did. “Oh trans fats! How I've missed thee!” 

“Diana.” Lynn's voice was stern, her stance showing how she was all business. “You heard what the doctor said. You have to lower your cholesterol or you run the risk of a heart attack. They run in your family and I refuse to have to bury you if-” 

“Woah. Woah woah woah. No one’s burying anyone, okay?” Diana looked up through her lashes at her girlfriend. Those puppy dog eyes almost an exact match for Sam's. Almost. “It's just a few fries. I haven't had anything fried in oil for two whole weeks Lynn. Two weeks! I'm allowed a few fries.” 

Lynn sighed and rolled her eyes. She slid into the booth more gracefully than Diana, and left both men’s plates alone. “She's still very upset from the drive down. We had to rent a car and all they had was a tiny cube hybrid.”

Dean threw on a shit eating grin on his face. “Oh really? Diana, you aren’t a fan of cube cars? You could always stack them to save room in a parking lot.” 

Diana glared at him. “It was either that or a minivan and I sure as shit wasn't going to store my guns in a soccer mom-mobile. But also, I banged my head,” she turned to face Lynn. “Like, a hundred times because they clearly don't know how to install doors without corners!” 

Lynn rolled her eyes, picking up a menu and flipping through the pages. 

“Uh…” Sam tried to think of something to add but he motioned to Dean to save the conversation. 

“So. Homophobic ghost. How… how do you guys want to play this?” 

Diana unfolded her arms to grab at the purse resting on her hip, pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, and using the edge of table to smooth it out. “So far there have been six murders: the three people found today, a trans man back a few weeks ago, and a lesbian couple a month ago. There doesn't seem to be any single ghost possibility that we can pinpoint from what info we've got now, so we'll have to go through town records and see who was a big old homophobe.” She reached for another fry and was reprimanded with a gentle swat from Lynn. 

Sam smirked at them, at how domestic they looked sitting across from one another. Apparently he was staring pretty hard because both women turned to stare back with a “what?” He cleared his throat and said, “nothing. It's just… it's rare to see hunters in happy relationships is all. I'm glad you guys take care of each other.”

Diana snorted. “The bar is set preeetty low for hunters, huh? Damn. Well thanks Sam, but maybe if my honey would let me eat some fries without chastising me like a child-” 

“If you eat an entire salad, you can have pie.” Lynn didn't even look up from her menu as she flipped it over. 

Diana's face lit up instantly. “With ice cream?”

“Don't push it.” Dean turned to look at Diana, the woman's face breaking out into a huge smile as she went through the menu herself. They really are cute, he thought. 

After lunch, they decided to check into the local inn, and it being a small creepy little town, somehow every room save for one was booked. The room they managed to get thankfully had two queen beds and a pullout couch, but that was where the good luck left them. The television was still black and white, which didn't bother Dean all that much. The turn dial and lack of remote however, did. The bathroom was modelled after a college dorm bathroom, so small their knees hit the sink when they sat on the toilet and the water pressure was more a suggestion than a possibility. 

“So…” Dean threw his duffel on the closest bed, following it as he flopped on his back. “Did you not want to bring the trailer or…?”

Diana rolled her eyes behind his back, too busy stripping the sheets to look for bed bugs on her bed. “Susan needed the truck for work cuz Lynn's car broke down. I think the poor thing’s gonna need a whole new suspension. It might be time to put old Trixie out to pasture.”

Sam let out a roaring laugh. “Trixie?!”

“Hey, I stand by that name.” Lynn fiddled with the knob on the tv. “Tricks are for kids and I love that cereal so I have no regrets.”

Diana flipped the covers back over, walking to wrap her arms around the back of her girlfriend’s crouching form. “It's also a term one uses when they are referring to their sex work clients. Aka ‘turning tricks’. Also, it's her favourite drag queen of the moment.” Dean and Sam both laughed, the room no longer seemed small and pathetic. 

“Hey!” Lynn gave up on the TV. “You're the one who shouted at the tv at the end of that season!”

“What show?” Sam composed himself enough to ask. 

“RuPaul’s-” Dean started, coughing to try to cover up his slip. “Uh, yeah guys. What show?” 

Diana and Lynn huffed a quiet laugh. “It doesn't matter. What matters is you two gotta check the bed and couch for bed bugs and then we'll be able to sleep.” Lynn stretched her arms over her head, dislodging Diana off her back. “If this is a ghost, we gotta have the strength to actually fight it. Diana and Sam, try to get into the library and town records to look for leads. I’m thinking you won’t have to look too far back - a year, maybe two - for death certificates of people who were homophobic. Look for hate crimes and sexual assault.”

“Sexual assault?” Sam asked. 

Lynn rummaged around in her purse, pulling out a small notepad. She flipped it a few times before showing him the page. “The first couple were tested positive on their rape kits. They also found splinters in one of their… Yeah.” Lynn swallowed the bile rising in her throat. Diana rubbed small circles on her back to calm her down. 

Sam felt bile rise up in his own throat. Splinters under a person’s fingernails or on their knees was one thing, but in all his time of hunting, he’d never expected to be faced with a case of splinters inside another human being. He sat at the small table and gripped the edge with both hands, knuckles turning white as he tried to even out his own breathing. Dean placed his laptop in front of his brother without a word. He was welcomed the distraction, flipping open the computer to start digging around.

Unfortunately, everything worth knowing about the town and it’s history was unavailable save for digging in the town hall. After a quick debate, the four hunters came up with a plan to split half on book research and the other two on recon. 

Sam and Diana headed to the middle of town, the walk from the motel brisk. The leaves falling around them made the road look almost romantic. Almost. The broken down buildings around them still sent shivers up Sam’s spine. 

“Reminds me of Silent Hill, without the fog. Maybe we’ll run into Pyramid Head.” Diana pulled the lapels of her coat tighter around her, keeping the cold out. 

Sam shuddered at the thought. “Ugh. No thanks. I’ve had my fill of reapers.” 

Diana huffed, a mix between a laugh and a sound of displeasure. “How is this our life?” 

“I dunno.” Sam shrugged. “Makes for a good story though.”

Diana stopped just short of town hall, turning away from it and Sam to stare at a group of rowdy teenage boys. They were walking past the square, uncaring of the bodies that lay in the morgue, waiting for someone to claim them. Sam was about to say something, his words dying in his throat when Diana turned back to flash a smile before heading up to sweet talk herself into the archives at city hall. 

Sam wished he knew the Wilsons better, longer. They had stayed alive for so long because they had avoided him and his brother, and the atmosphere of the town made him wonder how much longer they got left to live if they kept hunting together. Thankfully, the busyness of the library helped keep him on task. 

Despite the rest of the town’s affinity of pre-toaster oven aesthetics, the library was a modern hub of information. The long rows of old oak bookcases ran several hundred feet back, tables for group sessions outfitted with plugs for chargers, glass walled conference rooms for meetings with smart whiteboards and self checkout kiosks lining the wall closest to the exit. The armchairs were brightly coloured, the carpeting and paint job both new, and the skylight was absolutely breathtaking. He imagined it would look even better if it wasn’t overcast. 

Sam took up the entire top of the one remaining table in the library, the chair far too small for his big frame. He missed the spacious library room in the bunker, where he could research in his pajamas with snacks and coffee, but they didn’t have any information on this town in there, so he had to make do. He hoped Diana was making more headway in the records room in town hall, because he was getting about as much information on the people of this town as he had about the financial standing of Istanbul. If hard pressed however, he would admit that the history between Constantinople’s fall and the subsequent rise of Istanbul was fascinating. 

He sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He’d been sitting in the chair with stacks of books around him for so long, the chair was requesting he pay property taxes. This is pointless, he thought. There’s nothing here that could possibly- he stopped cold. Turning the page of his book, he found a clue. 

The village believed that for every sacrifice given to the harvest god Hecanane*, the townsfolk would have that many weeks of safety to get through the winter. The most beloved souls the harvest god accepted were those in love, and those who loved another with impurities in their veins. 

The rest of the text had been ripped out. The book was quite older, the spine almost crumbling in his hands as he brought it to the library’s copier. Harvest god. Just like the one in 2005. The scarecrow! He ripped the photocopy from the machine, tidying up as much of his mess as possible and practically ran out of the library to find Diana. 

She sat on the one lone bench in front of city hall, a small folder of what he hoped would be printouts, texting on her phone. He hustled past the loitering teenagers, hair whipping behind him as the wind picked up.

“It’s a harvest God. The townsfolk are sacrificing lovers. “ he huffed. She stopped texting to look up at him. “Look,” he sat down next to her, thrusting the paper into her hands. “Impurities - people used to think that being gay meant being impure, so maybe that’s what the townspeople think. They ran out of their own people to sacrifice and so they went after the vics. “ 

Diana studied the paper in front of her. “Where’s the rest of this?”

“Someone ripped it out.”

She sighed. “I don’t know Sam. I found something more disturbing.” She pulled up her folder and opened it. Inside were police photos of the corpses, their autopsies, and a few death certificates that were several decades old. “Dean probably has these autopsies too, but I swiped them anyway because look,” she pointed to the chest of the third victim, Sky Benson. “This imprint, it looks almost like a brand. The coroner missed it cuz it almost blends in with his top surgery scar, but look. It’s not any symbol I have in my database. I think it might be something like a class ring.” 

“Hmm.” Sam took the photos, looking through a few to find the symbol on the other vics. “Here, the fourth victim - Henry - he has it on his foot. But why would it be so random? If this was ritual…”

“It would all be in the same place.” She finished for him. “This could very well be ghost possession. Look,” She pulled out the death certificate and a photocopy of a news clipping. “Edgar Herratio the third, the former mayor of this POS town died in 1997. He was found dead in the middle of town at six am, presumably dead for two and a half hours before anyone takes notice. He wasn’t robbed and there was no blood, so it was labeled a heart attack. But his class ring, which,” she pulled out a photo of Edgar in his youth wearing the ring. “Was a class ring from his alma modern, was missing. His colleagues said he never took it off, but they never found it. It’s not like it was even valuable. No one had any motive to steal it. I think Edgar is possessing the body of his killer and going after gay couples. He reportedly sent his son to gay conversion camp. Adam, the son, killed himself when he came home, but they tried to cover up the suicide as a hunting accident. Though it was a really shitty cover up, look.” She turned the photocopy over, showing a picture of Adam’s corpse. “I’ve never seen a hunting accident where both wrists were sliced.” 

“When was this?” 

“1996. It’s why I think Edgar died. His son started haunting him, and it hurt so much that old ass face here died. Or the other theory…” 

“Which is..?”

“Humans. Homophobic human beings murdering trans and gay people.”

“Diana… the ring though.”

“Our last three victims - the couple and the sister. The sister was straight. Or as much as we could tell from her social media. I have Dean looking into it more, but she seemed straight.”

Sam smirked. “So did you when I met you.”

“Touché. But say she is straight. Why would Edgar’s ghost go after her? There’s still this nagging in the back of my head that says it’s neither of these. Maybe we’re dealing with a demon who’s intentionally fucking with us?”

He pulled the lapels of his coat closer together. “Unlikely. Zero sulphur at any given scene. No omens, and mostly, overall the demons have been quiet since Crowley died and Lucifer dimension hopped.”

“Yeah, okay. Wait, what? Dimensi- how is that?” She shook her head as she saw Lynn coming towards them. “Later? You’re telling me this story, yeah?”

“Sure Diana.”

“So the bodies of our last three victims are about the same as far as soft tissue damage is concerned.” Lynn placed her briefcase on the bench between Sam and Diana. “I couldn’t get a good EMF reading on any of them and no sulphur but I found a burn mark on the couple - Julius and Rohellio - it almost looked like a brand.” 

Diana tilted the file folder to give her girlfriend a better view. “Like this?”

“Exactly like that.” Lynn tapped the photo of Sky Benson twice. “Julius had one on the back of his neck; Rohellio’s was just below his navel.”

“How’d you get to the bodies?” 

Lynn shrugged. “No ME yet and security in this town sucks. I couldn’t cut them open so this is the best we have to go on at the moment.” 

“So what you’re saying is,” Sam raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You just walked in there like you owned the place and no one stopped you?”

“I walked in like I owned the place and no one stopped me.” Lynn tilted her head, touching her ear to her shoulder, joint popping audibly. “What theories do you have?”

Diana inhaled deeply, letting it out in a gust. “Theory one is a harvest god the townsfolk are sacrificing to. Number two is ghost possession by a homophobic ghost mayor. Thirdly, demons, but unlikely. And number four is the ever lovely, and entirely terribly possibility: homophobic hicks with too much time on their hands.”

Lynn tilted her head the opposite way, the joint pop resonating loudly in the open square. “Great. A possibility for serial killers. That’s exactly what we need right now.”

“Well, look at it this way,” Diana grabbed one of her hands. “If it ends up being a cereal killer, we already know what their weakness would be: milk.”

To Sam’s surprise, Lynn let out a snort of laughter. “Diana, that pun is awful!” Her face fell. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t confess how much this town creeps me out. It’s just… these people stare as if they know. If there is some type of cult sacrificing queer people for the worship of some god or demon, I don’t think I’ll be able to- what if they get you?” She stared at Diana, fear in her eyes. Sam saw the uptick of fear mirrored in Diana’s face and started worrying for them both as well. “What if I can’t protect you? What if they get me? What if I never see you alive again?”

Diana took Lynn's face in her hands. “That'll never happen so long as I'm alive, okay?” Lynn nodded. Sam turned to give them some privacy as they shared a kiss. When he turned around after a few moments, he caught the teenaged boys staring at them with disgust. Sam sent daggers with his eyes their way and they fled before the two women even noticed the exchange. Unfortunately, there were some things that even one of the best hunters in the world couldn’t protect them against. 

 

—————————

Day two found very little additional information or proof for the theories either. Dean was sure it was a ghost, Diana a demon, and Sam and Lynn were dead set on a cult, but the EMF reading in the last couples car seemed to say otherwise. Three of the five lights were holding steady in the cab of the car, but once outside it, the machine went almost dead. There was also no physical evidence in the car other than some old fast food wrappers, their belongings and a half finished cigarette which didn’t even have enough DNA hanging around to match it with anyone. They were at a stalemate with their research, Sam feeling like the walls were closing in on them just an inch more for every hour they couldn’t find another clue. 

He stretched his arms above his head, cracking his knuckles as the tension left his body. He looked at Dean and Diana, both focusing on their laptops in front of them, thoroughly engrossed in their readings. Side by side in the crappy motel room light, Sam saw how alike they really were. The lines around Dean’s eyes were permanent now, despite his bickering that they weren’t, and Diana’s were settling in quite comfortably too. Both soldiers still fighting even though the wars were over, shoulders always hunched, always prepared for an attack. Their hair even matched, though Diana seemed to be finally growing hers out. He bit his lip to keep from laughing at the thought that they probably used the same hair gel. She found something gross on her laptop, her lip curling up in disgust almost identical to the one Dean usually had on. It was amusing. But Sam’s face fell as he thought on how eerie it was. They’re both alcoholics too. But Diana’s the only one of them in recovery. Maybe she’ll be a good influence on him and he’ll cut back. But Sam knew that was a pipe dream. Dean had no interest in giving it up. It was his coping mechanism, just like sex and hunting. He definitely wasn’t going to let go of that after everything that happened. 

Jack being born after Castiel had just died was a slap to the older hunter’s face. It was a constant reminder that Jack was alive, Cas gone, almost as if Jack took his spot. Dean couldn’t even look at the kid, so Sam had to be the one to look after him. But that didn’t last very long once Jack found Dean lying in a pool of his own blood in the kitchen. Sam went through every contact he had left and finally found a boarding school to take him on. The whole ordeal was difficult for Jack, and Sam had been feeling guilty since the day he dropped him off and saw his retreating form get smaller and smaller in the rear view mirror, but it was for the best. Jack was causing some major problems for the school, clearly hanging with the wrong crowd and always messing with the staff, but he seemed happier there than he did with them at the bunker, and he was safe there. The head nun, Sister Mary Sue, had taken a shine to the boy the second they met. And she was also the perfect person to keep him in line when he messed up. 

“Don’t worry about him Samuel,” she said. “I’ll make sure that he’s safe and behaves. We’ll get along swell, now, won’t we Jack?”

Jack had only nodded, downtrodden and a bit scared. Sam remembered how the boy shook in his arms as they hugged, clearly feeling guilt over something he couldn’t control. “I’m so sorry Sam. It’s all my fault. Please don’t leave me here.”

“It’s not your fault Jack.” He squeezed harder. “Dean’s emotional and unstable. Humans sometimes have awfully big moments of vulnerability and Dean’s not coping with that very well. He didn’t mean it. Sometimes humans lash out and this isn’t your fault, okay?” Jack nodded into his shoulder. “This isn’t a punishment, okay? This is so that you’re safe. The nuns and reverend and visiting priests are here to protect you from any demons or angels that come after you and Dean needs time to cool off.”

Jack had texted and called Sam every day since. But never Dean. It had almost been a year and he still avoided Dean. It made Sam’s heart hurt. We don’t have much family left! He wanted to scream. Get your head out of your ass and friggin do something about holding onto what we’ve got here Dean! But he never did. He kept his mouth shut as Dean overturned the entire library. He kept his thoughts to himself when he found a picture of Castiel on Dean’s phone, candid and warm, Cas laughing at something, his profile lit by the setting sun. He kept his mouth shut at how many women Dean was seeing, or how he would leave for a sex weekend every other weekend. But finding Jack over a probe Dean, covered in blood and trying desperately to heal all Dean’s wounds was the final nail in the coffin. Dean needed help. So did Jack, but Dean had to be his main focus

The motel room banged open, shaking Sam from his thoughts, Lynn standing there with grocery bags in hand, stern expression on her face. 

“Something's wrong.” Diana moved to stand but Lynn only shook her head. “What happened?” Another shake. Diana pitched her voice into a soft whisper. “Come here.” 

Lynn's lip quivered once before screwing her eyes shut and putting the bags on the couch. She kicked her shoes off as she went, practically jumping in Diana's lap as she did. Dean and Diana shared a look that neither of them really could comprehend as Diana carded her fingers through her lover’s hair. “Hey… want to tell me what happened?”

Lynn wrapped her arms around Diana, trying to burrow her head into the crook of her neck as if it was the safest place on earth. She mumbled into the rough fabric of Diana’s blazer, her shoulders shaking slightly as she did. 

“Lynn, please.” Diana tried to peel her off but only managed to get Lynn's face free enough to hear her properly. 

“The- the cashier of the general store saw us. You and me. He-” she took one hand of Diana's back to wipe furiously at her eyes. “He told us to never come back and flung the juice so hard the bottle smashed into a million pieces.” She moved her face back into the crook of her neck, crying more freely. 

“Did-” Dean stopped for a moment to see the look of sheer anger on Diana's face before reaching a hand across the table to place on Lynn's shoulder. “Did you tell the manager? Were there witnesses?”

“Oh, I told him.” She pulled back her head just enough so her lips weren't completely muddled by tweed. “He said ‘I'm so sorry the cashier said that to you… when I should have told you that lesbian scum wasn't welcomed here myself.” 

“I'm going to kill him.” Diana pulled her closer, uncaring that her thighs were going numb. “I'm going to kill him and skin him and tie him to the flag pole so everyone knows how evil he is.”

“No.” Lynn pulled back completely, almost falling from Diana's lap in the process. “Don't. Don't sink to their level Di. You'll get arrested and be in jail for the next twenty plus years and I won't be able to see you and there might still be the death penalty in this state and-”

“Okay! Okay.” Diana rubbed at her girlfriend’s back, speaking softly. “I won't kill him. We’ll just threaten him, right Dean?” 

They looked at him as he nodded, pulling his gun from the holster at his lower back. He cocked the gun and said “right.”

Lynn rolled her eyes, gurgling a wet half laugh. “Don't be so dramatic, and please don't use weapons. I don't want any of you to get in trouble with the law.” 

“Well there goes two-thirds of our personalities.” He mumbled, turning a slight shade of red when he realized they both heard him. “Kidding!” 

Diana rolled her eyes at him before fixating on something on the table in front of her. “I… I think I have a plan to get back at that dick and draw out our ghost.”

\-------  
Diana rarely wore leather. Not because she didn't like the look or because she was a vegan or anything. Oh, no. She loved the look of rolling up into a new town with a pair of leather pants and a worn out band tee. But the feel of leather was not her jam. It was always too hot for her under a leather jacket and all the maintenance of it wasn't worth it if the only reason she had leather clothing on the road was to look cool. But, walking into the general store of this ancient little town in her girlfriend’s black leather jacket, Sam’s too big aviator sunglasses and a lollipop in her mouth made her feel like a ‘50’s biker babe and she was the one in charge. 

She stopped just short of the doors, making sure that each and every patron within eyeshot got a good look at her, twirling the lolly stick from one side of her mouth to the other, hands firmly held in the jacket pockets. She took a step forward to the nearest cash register, uncaring of the little old woman trying to pay for her corn as the teenager behind the till ogled her. “The manager please.” 

He kept staring at her as he pulled the phone next to the toll off its cradle, punching buttons blindly. He connected to the manager’s office and simply said, “someone for you sir,” before dropping the thing straight to the floor. 

Diana smiled sickly sweet at him before walking towards the back of the store, passing several confused shoppers on the way to where Lynn said his office was. 

The metal door opened with a screech and he walked out with the most bored look on his face. His balding head was more than likely a product of all the hair retreating to hang out dangling from his nostrils. He was plump in the way that years of sitting at a desk would only accumulate and he was taller than both her and Lynn, but the extra height did not add to his intimidation. In fact, Diana wondered what on earth would make Lynn so scared of him. It wasn't until they were a scant foot away from each other did she notice the disturbing resemblance he had with Lynn's late father. 

“Can I help you?” The name plate he clearly buffed way too often read TODD in black letters. She felt the urge to call him Toad instead, but refrained. She had a plan and intended to stick to it. 

“Yes, well.” She pulled the lolly from her mouth. “You see, there was a young woman in here yesterday buying groceries when one of your employees threatened her by throwing the juice bottle she was purchasing on the ground, not a foot away from her, and threatened that she never come back again. And when she tried bringing up the matter with you, you called her I believe it was… what was it? Oh yes, ‘lesbian scum’ and drove her from the store. Am I correct in that?” 

He leaned in closer to her, breath smelling of rotten carrots. “Even if I did, so what? You gonna arrest me for freedom of speech?” 

Diana calmly pulled the sunglasses up from her face to rest in her hair. “No sir. I don't have that kind of power here, however..” she snapped her fingers once, and Sam and Dean came from an aisle over, each flanking a side of her. “I’d like you to meet my friends.” 

Todd scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, key lanyard jostling. “So what? You brought muscle here to threaten me? What? Are Hulk and Heman going to beat me up behind the store once my shift is over? That'd be a felony.” 

Diana laughed, the sound feeling both angry and genuine at the same time. “Threaten you with bodily harm? No! Please, sir,” she placed a hand over the exposed skin of her a chest. “I am far more creative than that. See, he’s a lawyer,” she pointed to Sam on her right, “he's charming with a face everyone believes,” she pointed to Dean on her left, Todd just now seeing the duffle he was carrying. “And me? See, I'm pretty damn good with computers. Been teaching charming over here how to hack and we found something very interesting Todd! Or should I say KingsLayer6335?”

Todd’s expression of smugness fell into fear. “How- how did you- you can't do-”

“Do what Todd? Join the chat room you just so happened to be on when you announced to the group that you were a furry? Or that you jerk off in the cold storage of the store on your breaks and collect little jars of your spunk for your collection? Would you - oh my Todd! - you don't want your shoppers to know that, would you? Definitely not your mother! I hear she's retired now and is leaving the store for you to run. See, if you were to be fired for some reason or another, that would ruin your plans for a… what was it Charming?”

“A state of the art fursona suit.” Dean replied. 

“Right! And those things aren't cheap! But wouldn't his mother have grounds to arrest him as well?”

“Considering he ejaculated less than two feet from produce,” Sam pulled out a small notebook from his jacket pocket, flipping it open to read from. “She has not only grounds to have you arrested, but you'd have to pay her a fine of $500 for each occurrence. And by the number of times you've mentioned online that you've done so, you'd owe your mother $104,000.”

Todd’s face got even paler. Diana sucked in a breath. “Wow Todd! That's a heck of a lot of money! That would probably mean you'd lose not only your job, but your house, your car, your golf membership…”

“What- what do you want?” He was starting to sweat now. 

“See, it’s easy actually. We want you to fire the cashier from yesterday, undergo sensitivity training with the rest of your staff, offer an apology to the young woman you insulted and threatened yesterday, oh! And you'll need to wear this to this weekend’s town parade.”

Dean handed the red duffle to Todd who took it with shaky hands. “What's in here?”

“Oh! See, we heard it was the 100th anniversary of the founding of your town and that there was going to be a parade Saturday, so we took to arranging a float sponsored by your grocery store. We decorated it ourselves, and inside here you'll find your costumes. You'll also be giving your employees that day off - with full pay - and you'll be an enthusiastic and happy face up on that float like it was your idea all along!” 

Todd stared at her in impending horror before unzipping the duffle a faction to peak inside. “No freaking way am I going to wear that! No way, no -”

“The float’s already been paid for.” Dean crossed his own arms over his chest, Sam following suit. “I met your mother yesterday at the diner - such a lovely woman - and we got to chatting. Turns out she's always wanted to be in a float in a parade and she used the money she was going to use on your birthday gift this year and the next to pay for the float. She’s very excited for you two to ride it all around town.” Dean’s neutral expression started to turn into smug amusement. 

Todd was fuming, the three of them expected smoke to come from his ears any second. “How dare you-” 

“Listen, Todd,” Diana took a step forward, making him startle back two. “I only see two options here for you, and you've already made one bad decision this week, I wouldn't want for you to do another. Would you?” She popped the lolly pop back into her mouth with an audible pop. 

Sam and Dean moved closer to him, making them seem even more intimidating and larger than before. Todd shook his head, knuckles turning white as he gripped the canvas of the bag tighter with his grubby little fingers. 

“Good. So, we'll be keeping an eye on you and we'll see you in the parade this weekend or we'll see KingsLayer online first. And let's just say we hope to see you first…” she flipped the glasses back down over her eyes, sickly sweet and dangerous expression flirting on her lips as she pivoted on her heel. She walked to the front, the boys hot on her heels as she made it to the Impala in the lot. When she was out of earshot from the main entrance, she leaned away from the car with both hands firmly attached to the hood. “Fuck!”

“That went surprisingly well.” Sam was still looking back at the store, Todd’s balding head shining in the window as he stared back at them. 

“I should have knocked him out cold.” Diana breathed. 

“No, I think this is better.” Dean sighed. “Although I would have helped you hide his body on any given day.”

Diana huffed out a broken laugh. “You. I like you Winchester. You get me.”

 

\---——

The sun shining high in the sky seemed to be the closest thing to a good one as the shitty little horror town would get. Organizers had woken up the entire square with their set up at ass o’clock in the morning. Now, nearing almost noon, Main Street was blocked off from car traffic, barricades still allowing pedestrians free reign as popcorn and cotton candy vendors went back and forth until the parade marshal made them scatter. 

Lynn let herself be tugged by her girlfriend to the edge of the sidewalk with the rest of the entire town and the neighbouring villagers milling about waiting for the parade to start. “Why are we even here Diana?”

“Reconnaissance.” Diana assured her, pulled the EMF from her jean pocket. “You said you think the ghost has been tracking and attacking gay and lesbian people in this town so we're going to drag it out.”

“You and me? You want us to what, make out in the middle of the parade?”

Dean chuckled on the roof of the laundromat as he heard their argument over the radio on his walkie talkie. Sam had gotten them ear pieces per Diana’s request to communicate stealthy but it looked - or sounded more like - like Diana was not as used to the newer models as she once was, flinching at the sudden sound in her ear. 

“No Lynn. We're going to use the parade to draw it out. We got a float that's, well…. you'll see.” 

Lynn stared at her suspiciously, but denied to comment, content at leaning on her girlfriend’s side as warm arms wrapped around her. The sun gave off some warmth, but in the little town of murder, it was still too chilly to not take advantage at Diana’s more pudgy and thick arms. 

After a good ten minutes into the parade, Lynn in fact did see. A huge glittery rainbow arch rose up from the levelled float, also painted in sloppily drawn rainbows, with a lawn chair spray painted to look like a throne, the little old lady sitting on it wearing a long sequin gown and opera gloves. Behind her, Todd the manager stood throwing beads and condom kits to the people below. And the people were loving it. Cheers and chants broke out among the crowd, Todd stepping to the front of the the float to throw more beads and letting Lynn get the full effect of his outfit. The rainbow shorts were so short they should have been speedos, and the rainbow cape behind him was tied around his hips instead of his shoulders. His entire torso was covered in glitter, and the two foot tall blond wig atop his head was nothing when the rainbow fascinator stole the show. Ostrich feathers in every colour stuck out several feet from its rhinestoned base, moving of its own accord even when Todd stood still. Best of all, he looked miserable and his mother looked like she was having the time of her life. It was the most satisfying thing Lynn had seen yet and she turned to Diana as he passed by them. 

“How did you…?”

“You did tell her no violence Lynn.” Sam’s voice rang through on their earpieces. “She kept her word.”

Diana smirked at Lynn, moving to pose in a ‘ta-da’ fashion but was stopped by Lynn’s hands. She pulled her in for a crushing kiss. Her hands moved down to Diana’s waist, dipping her down, stealing the breath from her lungs. They were so wrapped up in each other, they didn’t notice the cashier from the grocery store staring at them hatefully from the shadows. 

“You see that?” Dean asked. “Over by the bakery store front. Is that the guy who threw the glass bottle at Lynn?” 

“Yeah. I see him.” Sam’s voice rang through. “He looks pissed.”

Diana gasped as she pulled away from Lynn to breathe. “I see him behind us.” Diana kept her face composed in a smile. “I really want to ring his neck but I’m not going to. Lynn, check my pocket for the EMF?” 

In one smooth move, Lynn moved Diana upright with one hand, and pulled the EMF reader from her front pocket with the other, checked it, and popped it back in. “It’s going bananas.” She cupped Diana’s face with both hands and leaned in for another kiss. “Do you think-“ kiss “that he’s-“ kiss “the one-“ kiss “possessed.” 

Sam smiled. They were in the middle of recon and they had to play it up, but Diana’s blush wasn’t fake. “I’m gonna go with yes. Let’s grab him and get out of here.”

“Agreed.” Dean grabbed his stuff and shimmied down the fire escape ladder. Sam was closer to the bakery, and Dean kept a close eye on his brother and the cashier, moving carefully around the spectators. There were far too many people out to be safe if the cashier indeed needed exorcizing, but there wasn’t a manual for hunting, and there’d always be casualties. 

Dean maneuvered past a dad hoisting his kid on his shoulders, dodging a stray foot to his face, looking past them to see Sam pulling the cashier by the scruff of his hoodie into the bakery’s side alley. Glancing around, dean confirmed no one had witnessed them, and followed suit. 

The bakery had shared its alley and its dumpster with the travel agency next door. It was to their benefit that the travel agency went belly up several months prior, and Diana was already breaking into their side entrance. Sam all but three the kid into the dark building, the other three hunters following close behind. 

“Hey!” The kid squirmed against Sam, grasping for the zipper on his hoodie so he could slip away. 

Lynn clicked on her phone a few times, light flooding from it suddenly and illuminating the room around them. “Stick him there.” She pointed to her right, a lopsided abandoned swivel chair facing the corner. It must have been the supply closet or a manager’s office, small with several empty bookcases, metal and rusted. 

Sam dragged him into the chair, holding the boy’s arms behind his back as Dean upturned a bag of salt on him. “Hey! Why the hell are you doing?” Diana splashed holy water in his face, pushing the silver flask against his neck with no reaction save for anger and fear. “What the hell? What the hell are you guys doing?! Is this a kidnapping? This is part of the gay agenda, isn’t it? Oh God! I’m not ready to be probed!” 

“Ew.” Diana wrinkled her nose up at him. “No, nobody’s going to probe you - that would require finding someone who would want to - and it’s not part of the ‘gay agenda’. The only thing on my ‘gay agenda’,” Diana exaggerated her air quotes, flask still in hand. “Is to remind my girlfriend I love her, limit my trans fats, hunt ghosts, wear kick ass boots, oh, and be super fucking homo.” She leaned in close to him, he flinched so she got even more closer. “The only ones time you should be afraid of my agenda is if you’re a ghost. Are you possessed?”

“What? No! I’m just… who are you people?”

Diana’s hand whipped forward, grabbing his chin and squeezing painfully. He whimpered in fear. “I could be your ally or your enemy, but that’s up to you. What do you know about this town? What do you know about those murders?” 

“I- I think we got off on the wrong foot.” He mumbled, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth and rubbing down Diana’s hand. She didn’t let go. “I’m Bradley. I’m-“ his eyes shifted focus on Lynn, the memory of his actions clicking into place. “You. You got me fired.”

Dean leaned his foot heavily on Bradley’s crotch. “No, you got yourself fired for being a homophobic piece of shit. You’re going to apologize to my friend here, tell her you were very wrong to be so hurtful, and you’re going to tell us all about the other murders.”

Bradley struggled against them. “I don’t know anything! Please, let me go!”

“No.” Dean leaned more, Bradley’s eyes misting over with tears of pain. “Six people have died now in this town, all in less than a year, and all queer - save for one. So you’re going to tell us everything you know.”

“I’m telling you, I- AAAAAAAHHHH!!! Okay! OKAY!” Dean pulled his foot off entirely, the kid whining in pain. “I didn’t know the sister was straight, okay? I’m just the messenger.”

“What?” 

“When what’s his face was mayor, he had a small task force of undercover cops that would break up gatherings of the gays and keep people from hooking up in the parks and stuff. That was when it was illegal to be gay in the state, so no one really cared. But then his son was caught and it went south, fast. They didn’t just arrest him or take him away. They- it was brutal.”

“They bashed his skull in cuz he was gay.” Diana wrenched her hand away from him, breath coming in fast. 

Bradley nodded. “The mayor tried to shut them down for years, but they got too powerful. They staged the son’s murder to look like a botched suicide/hunting trip, then they killed off the mayor too. I don’t know how they made it look like a heart attack, but they managed to convince everyone. I think they were after his safe too, that’s why they never found his class ring.”

“Safe? The ring is the key to the safe?” Lynn groaned. “It’s a cult. Not a ghost. Great.” 

Sam loosened his grip on Bradley. “So they were after his money.”

“What?!” Bradley laughed. “The mayor was dead broke by the time he died. He spent thousands trying to hire private eyes and lawyers trying to find some evidence that would stick. But it didn’t work. I don’t think for a second there was any cash left in there.”

“How do you know all this?” Dean lifted his foot in intimidation. 

Bradley shrunk back into the chair. “My mom used to be mayor ass-face’s secretary. Some guy paid her a bunch of cash to keep her mouth shut about it. She…” his head fell, chin tucked into his chest. “She died when I was ten. Some freak car accident that they probably staged cuz she was going to say something.”

“Who’s this they anyways?” Sam asked. 

Bradley shrugged. “Don’t know. No one does. Maybe ranger Dwittly but he’s probably just as clueless as everyone else.” 

Diana sighed. She stared at Lynn for a long second before turning sharply to him. “Why’d you attack Lynn?” 

“Diana!” Lynn reached for her girlfriend but wasn’t fast enough. 

“Why?!” 

“I’m sorry!” Tears fell on his cheeks, eyes screwed shut. He was shaking in the swivel chair and no one had any clue what to do, so they all just stared. “I’m sorry! Todd’s the only one who would hire me and I’m alone since my uncle went to a home! He’s got dementia and the bills are ridiculous! Todd said that if I showed ‘potential’ he’d promote me to supervisor so I can afford to travel to see my uncle more. I knew he either meant I had to steal something or show him we’re on the same footing and I know how much he hates gay people and- and I just- I’m so sorry. It’s inexcusable!” He looked up, snot running down his sad, red, swollen face. “I shouldn’t have done what I did! It was unnecessarily rude and you could have gotten hurt!” 

“I ought to rip your lungs out!” Diana stride forward ready to do just that, but was stopped by Dean’s crushing grip on her forearms. “Let me go, Dean.”

“No.”

“Dean…” she warned. 

He only shook his head. “No. Bradley is going to tell us all he knows about this shadowy group of homophobes and he gets to walk out of here with only a few broken toes.”

“My toes aren’t broken-“ 

“And maybe a bruise or two. Maybe he dropped a bookcase on his foot when he tried to ransack one from this abandoned travel agency.” Bradley swallowed thickly. “What do you say Bradley?”

He looked between Diana and Dean, unsure of which one would be harder to fight. He screwed his eyes shut as he tried his hardest to steady his breathing. “Todd definitely. He’s always sneaking off to cold storage at random hours of the day.”

“He does that to masturbate near the milk and eggs.” Sam deadpanned. 

Thankfully Bradley looked just as horrified as they did. “Ew! That’s disgusting! That’s near what people eat! Ugh! Ew.” He shook his head, goosebumps raising in his arms. “Well, it would have to someone working in the hall of records at city hall, definitely the medical examiner or one of the funeral directors or a doctor - someone had to fake those suicide scars. Maybe a ranger or two, I think maybe Marcie who runs the hair salon. She kicked our her kid when he - she? - when her kid turned out trans.”

“Came out,” Dean corrected. “When her kid came out as trans. You done just turn out queer, kid. It’s not like being a werewolf.”

“Woah.” Bradley stared at the wall across from him, eyes out of focus. “A transgender werewolf. I’d watch the shit out of that movie.”

“Focus!” Diana snapped. “I want a list of names.” 

————————

Lynn went over the list they’d compiled with Bradley and went to do recon with Dean while Diana and Sam found the punk teen a way back home without drawing suspicion. Dean had managed to cut out Marcie the salon owner from the list when he found her sitting on her front porch with the previously kicked out daughter, the two seemingly trying to reconcile their broken relationship. Marcie actually went so far as to buy and hang several different pride flags in her kitchen - many of which Dean would have to ask Lynna and Diana to help him identify. 

After scouring the rest of their possible suspects and coming up on empty, te two headed into the diner to pick up some parade to-go specials of grilled chicken skewers and slow roasted duck. 

Coming back with Lynn, arms laden with diner food, Diana stirred in bed. Dean went to pop down the food on her lap, but stopped cold. “Uh, Lynn?”

Diana was covered head to toe in sweat, legs tangled in the blankets. A stray piece of hair stuck to the sweat on her forehead, the rest splayed out on the pillow, head thrashing back and forth on it. It was a nightmare, and a pretty bad one from the looks of it. Her hands were gripping the bedding, knuckles gone white, her jaw clench making her already shallow breathing that much more difficult. “Lynn!” 

He shook whatever reverie she was in and Lynn immediately flew to her girlfriend’s side. “Shhh…” She hushed, running blunt fingernails through the bed head. “It’s okay Di, it’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe here, you’re home, you’re safe.” She sat on the bed, hauling Diana’s thrashing body into her lap. She struggled, motioning with her head as he pulled her fully into the other’s lap. Diana immediately relaxed, as if Lynn was some natural Vicodin. 

She was muttering to herself, Lynn’s sweater muffling her words. “What was that?” Lynn gently pulled at Diana’s head, the same move her girlfriend used on her not two days prior. 

“I shouldn’t have said that. I have to apologize, I have to. I owe it to- oh god. What if- I don’t deserve forgiveness. I can’t not tho, I can’t sit around and wait till our contacts get back to us. I have to catch the next flight and make sure, make absolutely sure that the corpse was fake. That they’re still alive and just….”

“I know. I know.” Lynn pet at her hair as Diana continued to shake and rant. 

“I will never forgive myself from what I said, what I did!” She face planted into Lynn’s exposed collarbone. “I’m a horrible friend.”

Lynn rocked her back and forth, hand rubbing up and down her back, uncaring of how sweaty it might be. “You messed up. You got scared, and you slipped off the wagon, and you messed up. I know. You deserve to be forgiven-“ 

“No!” Diana wrenched herself away, standing on shaking legs. “You weren’t there! You didn’t hear what I said! What I… it was inexcusable! It’s my fault they got h- it’s my fault, and I have to bare it. Alone. I’m going to find those Brits and find the fucker who tried to slaughter I- I- I-“ tears streamed down her face, adrenaline fading fast. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gone into that bar.” 

“No, you shouldn’t have. But you did. Can you go back in time and un-do it?” Diana shook her head. “So atone for it. Finish this case with us and I promise we’ll call Elliot when we get home and we’ll fly out as early as possible. Wentworth still owes us a favour. Doesn’t he own a plane?” 

Diana nodded dumbly, crawling back into Lynn’s lap on the bed. Sam chose that moment to come back from the vending machine, cans of pop in his hands. “What’s going on?”

Dean steered him outside, closing the door behind them to give them some privacy. “Diana had a nightmare.”

“Another one?”

“Another… dude.” Dean shot him a disappointed face. 

“Okay; when we were renting that house with the ghost possession room of death etc etc, she had a nightmare. Violent one. She’s ex-army. She was on her second tour when a HumVee exploded and caused this awful explosive reaction. Diana was caught under ground in a pit with a piece of the HumVee in her side. She dug out the shrapnel from her abdomen with her own knife and cauterize did it herself. She was stuck hiding there for three days. Alone. She’s still…” he trailed off, looking through the window at Lynn murmur sweet nothings into her lover’s hair. Diana was calmer now, almost asleep again, but awake enough to want food. 

“Yeah I get it. Makes sense.” Dean swallowed thickly, thinking of his own trip to hell, and purgatory, and every damn place in between. “She doesn’t want anyone else knowing, huh?” 

Sam shook his head. “Maybe don’t tell her I told you about it. We don’t know them really well enough to bring that shit up, and even so, it’s not something you go ‘hey, so I heard you were in the war, thanks for that!’ you know?” 

Dean nodded, squaring his shoulders and opening the door. Noticing the bag of takeout still in one hand, he passed it to Diana. “Got you salad with grilled chicken on top, and Lynn said there’s pie after!”

She shook her head briskly. “Not hungry.”

“You gotta eat Diana. Look,” he pressed. 

“I said: I’m. Not. Hungry!”

“Diana.” Lynn’s voice was firm. Diana looked up at her, face blank. “Take the food please. You don’t have to eat it now, but just take it. Please.” She sighed but followed her girlfriend’s example, thanking Dean with clipped words, and settled in Lynn’s arms. 

 

\---------------------

“Pick up 2, 4, 6, 8!” Diana counted the sum as she lay each card down on the table in front. “And because it's red, you have to say a truth no one really knows about you.”

This is what they did in their spare time; play truth or dare uno, apparently. Not that Dean minded but it was infuriating how he was the one always stuck picking up card after card without a sizeable dent in his hand. “Fine. Uh… I'm allergic to cats. Seven, seven and seven. You're turn Lynn. And red card, so truth as well.”

“Hmm.” Lynn took far more time studying the cards than the rest of them. “I lied to Diana when I said I didn't know what was wrong with my car when we re-met years ago. I just wanted something to talk about with her. I pass.”

Diana slammed her hand on the table. She pointed her finger accusatory at her girlfriend. “I knew it! I knew you were playing dumb! You were the one that ripped the wires out!”

Sam laughed, putting down a Wild wCard. “Red, so Diana, truth!!!!”

“I once showed up to meet a client and he turned out to be Susan's biology teacher.” 

“Woah woah woah, client?”

“Diana used to be a “woman of the night’.” Lynn’s tone was calm, but Diana's face anything but. 

“Woah.” Sam put a hand up, trying hard not to smirk. “You were… did you really..?”

Diana grumbled at Lynn. “Thanks a lot babe. Yeah,” she turned to Sam and Dean. “I used to be a sex worker, okay? I was young when dad died and our mom got worse. She didn't-” Diana ran her hands through her hair, frustrated. “Susie didn't know, because I kept her away from it, but mom started to not recognize us. The loss, it really progressed her mental health into the shitter. I know that's a horrible way to put it, but I was a month away from graduating high school and suddenly I had a funeral to plan and a mom to put up in a mental health facility and no one was there to help me.” She put down three skips. “So I found a way to make it work. I lied to Susan that I got a job at a 24 hour diner and I met clients at the motel across from it. I did that for a few years, just until she got into nursing school, and mom’s bills became too much. And then I-” she placed down a yellow 2. “Never mind. I ended up in the army, and then I got home just when Mom passed and short story… I'm here now. And yellow. Dean, you have to put a nickel into the cup.”

The room was silent. Sam’s smirk was all but forgotten, his hand on her shoulder rubbing comforting circles. Lynn shuffled the cards remaining on the table. 

Dean sighed, putting his hand of cards on the table face down. “I once joined a dating app, got what I thought was going to be a random hookup and ended up unknowingly arranging an appointment with a hoo- sex worker. Oh, and her pimp? Is that the correct term? Handler, I guess? Anyways, her uh, employer? He was a demon.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “It's true. He had the most ridiculous pose on his car as his photo too.” 

Lynn laughed so openly and loudly the table shook. Diana cracked a smile first at her girlfriend, then turned to Dean. “Let me get this straight: you joined a dating app, you posed in front of your very recognizable car, and posted that online? Aren't you guys like… wanted for grave desecration and attempted murder? Why would you do that? Don't tell me, you also put your date of birth and your real name too. Like ‘hey baby’,” Diana pitched her voice low in a crude impression of Dean. “‘My name’s Dean Winchester. I like pie, burgers, and long walks to the graveyard where I dig up dead bodies to light on fire, but you can light my fire anytime. I'm down for casual sex in a motel room, but the hood of my 1967 Chevy Impala - black in colour with the licence plate as seen above - is pretty spacious and sturdy too. Don't let my guns scare you, there's a bigger one …. in my pants.’ “

Sam started crying with laughter, actual tears streaming down his face as he doubled over, Lynn snorting so hard she started coughing. Diana had to hold onto Dean's shoulder just to keep from keeling over and out of her chair. “Yeah, okay then Diana. That's enough.”

“Oh my GOD!” Sam wheezed, wiping at his eyes. “He showed me his profile, and it was- oh my GOD, I can't breathe!” Sam chugged his water bottle. “He actually put down his real date of birth, place of birth, and his real name too! Oh and the photo! Man I wish I had that saved.” 

“Oh, alright. Yeah yeah, laugh it up.” Dean pulled his hand up and placed down a pick up four. “That's enough guys. And pick up four Lynn.” 

Lynn scrunched her face, but did it anyways. Dean felt a hand clap down on his shoulder. He didn't have to turn his head to know it was Diana thanking him. He let himself feel lighter, being able to make someone feel better about the bullshit they endured to make sure their family survived. He wished someone would have done that for him decades ago. He wanted to tell her ‘I did it too, once or twice. Food was low and Sam needed new socks’ but he didn’t want his brother to ever know that. He wasn’t ready. But knowing Diana had a similar experience was comforting. 

\--------------------

The woods were creepier that night. A thick fog had fallen over the town, almost impossible to see anything over fifty feet in any direction, but monsters didn't have time for vacation. 

Todd was doing a shit job of being bait. He was supposed to walk inside the thicket of trees, between the markers he was given but he didn’t listen. Whether he was wandering on his own out of fear or out of boredom was difficult to determine. Sam however could determine very quickly that whatever the reason, Todd would probably die if he continued to be so stupid. No, he’d definitely die if he didn’t smarten up, but him staying alive tonight was Sam’s job, and Sam was normally good at his job, even when dealing with idiots. But Todd, Todd was testing his patience. 

After combing extensively through every paper trail they could find over the past three days, the only link they could find between the homophobic killers and the story Bradley gave them was Todd and his message boards. It was Susan who actually found the link, emailing them back and forth whenever she had a second away from the hospital back home to sit upright in front of her laptop long enough to type. Susan found the message board names on another totally separate website - something called a Reddit that Sam and Diana spent way too long explaining to Dean - and of the six that KingsLayer6335 was regularly chatting with online, five were also chatting with him on the Reddit thread. 

It was only logical to make him send out an invitation to meet up in the woods that night to his online buddies and set a trap for them. Unfortunately for their plan, all four of them - plus Susan - completely forgot that Todd was a masterpiece of a fucking moron. 

“Where the hell is that POS?” Diana huffed, catching her breath. “I can’t find him anywhere and he’s not responding to the radio.”

Sam crouched, moving his hand among the leaves, fingers closing around the discarded earbud. “Well I think I know why he’s not responding.” He held it up above his head, Diana’s light shining over onto. She cursed harshly under her breath. “Yeah, Todd’s an idiot”, he pushed himself up on his knees. 

She kissed her teeth in annoyance, turning her light on the woods around them. “Some people are just not prepared to handle being under stress, especially something like this. But usually,” she sneared at the tree closest to her, a paltry substitute to their live bait. “Usually they don’t fucking abandon the people trained to save their ass.” She crouched as she whispered loudly to the thick shrubbery. She motioned to Sam to follow, one of Todd’s wide footprint visible past the end of the brush. 

Stepping over the bushes, Sam caught the scent of something familiar but couldn’t place the thick woodsy scent, strong and overwhelming his nose to the actual woodsy scent of the forest around them. He shrugged, rolling his shoulders to dislodge the anxiety sitting between his joints there. Todd was going to freaking pay for wandering off, and Sam was itching to have a reason to punch the sniveling little man in the jaw. 

Diana stopped short, Sam slamming into her at the suddenly stop. She braved a hand on each tree on opposite sides of her to keep them from propelling forward into the dirt. She shot him a frustrated look and motioned with her chin to look left. There, on a young birch was a hunting knife, blade stuck about five feet up from the ground, blood still wet where the tip was embedded. There wasn’t enough blood to think anyone was murdered, but enough to raise Sam’s blood pressure. He raised his flashlight up to find anything to explain the knife. A glint appeared a few feet away from the birch, another hunting knife, more blood, still dripping. Diana took a deep breath in, making her way over. Sam followed, checking behind him to see nothing but trees. 

———-

Dean hated this. Hated waiting around for an update from Sam as his little brother headed deeper into the woods. Hated being the one on the side lines until Sam would get hurt. It was infuriating. It was stupid. 

“Stop muttering under your breath.” Lynn loaded her gun with rock salt rounds, shaking her head at Dean. “It’s not going to make you feel any better.” 

He sighed. “I know.” He double checked his own, turning his head to the side to crack his joints. “It’s just-“ 

“I know.” She looked up at him, clicking her sawed off’s chamber closed. “I have four people to worry about at every hunt. Three now, after…” she closed her eyes, huffing. “I worry. I worry a lot. It’s terrifying and it sucks.” Dean tried not to smile at Lynn’s struggle with the word. “It’s sucks and it sucks, and it’ll continue to be a crap feeling every single hunt, and I can’t help it. You can’t help it. But that’s our life. The worry is part of the job.” She pursed her lips, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “But we both know that Diana and Sam are safe together.”

“Yeah, Sam’s well trained. He’ll watch her back.”

Lynn chuckled. “More like Diana will save Sam’s ass once he gets his weapon knocked out of his hand.”

“Hey! What if Diana’s the one who gets the weapon knocked away?” 

Lynn smiled smugly, pulling a small knob from the handle of her gun, a length of thin rope being pulled free. It was a wrist strap. 

“It’s a wrist strap. You have a sawed off shot gun with a wrist strap. It’s like a dog leash. You have a gun. With a wrist strap. How-? What-?”

“Diana’s invention. The gun gets thrown,” Lynn demonstrated, throwing the gun on the pile of leaves to her right, the thin rope revealing more of itself. “And it comes back.” The knob at the side of her wrist strap was pressed, and the gun case flying back. She hefted it to her shoulder and feigned aiming it at the trees. “Easy peasey.” 

“What happens when a vamp or a demon uses that to pull you closer?”

“Susan has hair to her thighs that she braids into a much easier to grab rope that many have grabbed onto, and yet, she still hasn’t cut it. She made sure we know how to use that kind of situation to our advantage.”

Dean hummed in agreement. That’s pretty bad ass, he thought. He pictured the poor bastard who tried to grab Susan’s hair only to be choked out but her braid. She’d use it like a noose. Maybe use it like a whip. Like Catwoman. Dean shook his head, trying to get that image out of his head. He didn’t need that right now. He looked down at his own gun, and wondered out loud, “maybe Diana could do something like that for our guns.”

Lynn shrugged. “I don’t see why not. She likes locking herself in her little work shop and invent things. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. You know, she actually made some amazing things a few years back for other hunters. It was pretty good back then, you know, for being a hunter.” 

“Of course.”

“Of course.” She grinned “But we were doing pretty well for cash at the time - if it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t have been able to go back to school and get my degree. Diana’s always been good at finding ways to make sure we were taken care of, but that? Oh, we could have been rolling in cash.”

“Wow. What happened?” 

Lynn kissed her teeth in frustration. “Men of Letters. Before we left, they raided our storage lockers and stole almost twenty six different prototypes and another hundred of our other weapons. Diana made these pressurized canisters that hold holy water instead of mace, and it creates this vapor-“

“The one from the vamp hunt. Yeah, I remember that. It was cool.”

“Yeah. Diana hid some things underground - literally. She dug a hole and buried it in a chest like a darn pirate.” Dean and Lynn laughed. “Anyways. If she hadn’t, the Brits would have taken those too. They had one of her prototypes for one that could do something similar. “

“Gold? With a bunch of symbols carved into it?” He asked. 

Lynn’s face lit up. “You’ve seen it.”

“Yeah. The brits had one. We used it to shove Lucifer from the President’s body.”

“Oh. Huh. It worked?”

“Yeah. Why are you surprised? Don’t you trust Diana’s handiwork?”

“It’s not that. It’s just- wow. The devil? Really? Wow. Damn. It uh…” she chuckled. “It was supposed to render a turned werewolf back into their human form. Wow. She’s better than she thought. Huh.”

“Render a werewolf… seriously? She made a weapon to get a werewolf to go back into their human form? How is that even possible?” 

“No idea. I deal with people’s brain problems. That side of science is beyond me. But she’s going to be pretty happy to find out that she made the weapon that smoked the devil.”

“The brits said they came up with it. Guess they lied.”

Lynn stopped to look at him with disappointed eyes. “Dean, the British took part in mass genocide to get America under their belt, not to mention South Africa, Canada, and about another dozen countries. Stealing some prototype and completed supernatural weapons should not surprise you.”

“Yeah you’re ri-“ he stilled, finger coming to his lips. Lynn stood rigid, gun cocked and ready to fire. “Could have swore I heard-“ The sound repeated. Shick. Thump. They looked at one another and moved cautiously forward. The trees were so close together, their trunks absorbing much of the noise. The sound was steadier now, a shick of a knife being sliced into something and the wet thump of something else being hit. 

They stepped carefully deeper into the forest, avoiding sticks and dead leaves as best as they could. It took ten minutes of creeping to realize the sounds were coming from the opposite direction. Lynn motioned to the section near where they came from and Dean nodded. He was pissed. Whatever this thing is, he thought, I’m going to skin it alive if I can because this is such bullshit. 

He turned off his light, motioning for Lynn to do the same. She rotated the top of it to slowly taper off the light, leaving them in darkness. He blinked several times to adjust to the lack of light, feeling Lynn put something heavy on his face. He tried swatting at her, only to have a switch turned on and leaving her bathed in a soft green tones. “Oh,” he breathed in surprise. Of course Diana would make night vision goggles from binoculars and workshop goggles. He moved his head around, enjoying his new found sight. Pocketing the flashlight, he motioned Lynn ahead. They moved with very little talking, thankfully the hand signals Diana had taught her were still familiar to Dean. One of the few things he ever was thankful to John for teaching him. 

The air was nippy, a breeze blowing across the land, keeping them awake and alert as they weaved in between the trees. Shick. Thump. They were getting closer, 

————-

“What the fu-“ Diana was thrown face first into the tree she was looking at,mouth connecting painfully to the bark. Sam pivoted around to grab at the shadowy figure off her, only for it to dodge him completely. “Fuck!” 

Sam raised his gun to shoot, another shadowy figure knocking it out of his hands and bringing the side of the pistol to the side of his face. He hissed as it made contact, blood trickling from the side of his lip. He raised his arms up to defend against the second blow, grabbing at the gun with his left hand. A shot fired off and the figure dropped to the ground in a heap, Diana on the opposite side, cocking her gun. 

Sam adjusted his own gun in his hands and aimed for the figure coming at her from the side, salt round clipping him in the shoulder. Leaning over the fallen one closest to him, he noticed the whatever-it-was had on a tattered old cloak, the hood covering up most of its ugly scaled face. Diana must have noticed the same, motioning at him and showing him a few hand signs. 

UGLY. WEIRD. CLOAK. MASK? MORE?

Sam nodded, pointing at the knives sticking out from the trees around them. FOUR KNIVES. He signed clumsily. She seemed to understand, nodding and avoiding them all together.

Moving closer to him, she whispered, “leave the knives. The blood is evidence. There have to be more of them.” Sam nodded and they moved deeper into the woods, no longer following Todd’s footsteps, but the ones their new monster friends had left behind. “Huh. That’s a standard running shoe.” She turned back to look at the unconscious bodies behind them, thinking hard before turning back and following the steps. 

“How’s your face?” He whispered.

Diana seemed to forget completely about her broken lip until he mentioned it, touching her face and wincing. “Ow. Not great, but nothing’s broken. Come on. There’s more bloody knives this way.”

Their steps moved in tandem, feet falling precisely in time with one another, the noise of shuffling leaves to a minimum. Several hundred feet later, Sam was the one to stop suddenly this time, Diana barreling into his back for a change. He moved aside just enough for Diana to see a dying campfire among a jutting rock formation. Another shadowy figure, this one holding a book of spells, a reaper with its mouth sewn shut and gold glowing chains connecting its arms and legs together. 

———————

“Did you hear that?” Dean grabbed at Lynn’s elbow in front of him. “That sounded like a gun-“ something heavy and solid knocked into his side, completely toppling him. He heard Lynn shout his name, but the sound of his head hitting the jutting root of a tree on his way down was louder. The thing on top of him was wailing on his head with it’s fists, bone connecting with his temple so hard it dislodged the goggles from his face. 

The forest was bathed again in black, so he pushed the assailant off of him as best he could and reaching into his pocket and pulling free the flashlight and turning it on. Lynn was prepared, as always, and as soon as his light went on, so did hers, effectively startling the figure and it screamed in pain at the sudden blinding of light. It fled in the opposite direction, Lynn hot on its trail. 

Dean groaned as he stood, grabbing the now broken night vision goggles off the ground and heaving his way towards Lynn’s fading light. He pushed his way through the thicket of trees, one hand on his gun, the goggles under the arm holding his flashlight. He stumbled a bit on the exposed roots, but he counted himself lucky that another one didn’t pop out to surprise him. 

The woods broke free after almost an hour of chasing after her, and it took dean a hot second of adjusting to realize they were in the town’s cemetery. He looked back to where he came from, nothing coming in on his headset - nothing had come through since the gunshot - and decided to keep going. 

He found Lynn quickly, shooting salt round after salt round into the figure she’d been chasing. It went down after her second reload, and she reloaded again before checking on him. Dean noticed movement on her left, and shouted, but it was too late. The figure knocked her down, wrenching the gun away from her, breaking the cord with a swift cut of its hunting knife. 

Dean aimed and fired, missing just barely. The figure faced him as dean started to charge, only for the cloaked monster to be swept off it’s feet by Lynn’s outstretched legs. 

Lynn dove for him, crucifix in hand and started wailing on the monster. Dean stood stock still for a second, mesmerized. He moved to peel her off so he could behead the thing, but he stopped short when he heard what she was saying. “May the power of Christ compel you!” She repeated with each blow, quickly losing her breath but still unrelenting with her strikes. Finally, the thing underneath was unmoving and she dropped the crucifix with a wet thump on the grass. “Oh, what in the heck?”

“What? I think you got it pretty good. I mean, I guess the power of Christ really did compel-”

“No, not that. This” she pulled the cloak’s hood away, yanking at the colour of the shirt to reveal a flap. Dean looked at her with great confusion for a second before she tugged it up and off. “It's a mask.” Underneath the mask was a man, mid forties with a now swelling lip and eye, beard matted in the blood that was pooling by his chin. 

“Are you- oh my GOD!”

“Don't blaspheme.”

“Are you kidding Lynn? Not gonna give me one pass considering this guys just friggin Scooby Doo’d us? Like, seriously man?” The man was unresponsive, breathing still but very unconscious. Being hit in the head fifteen times with a cross will do that to ya, Dean thought. 

Diana shouted at them but Dean couldn't make it out as she limped quickly to Lynn. “Babe. Wha happ’n’d? ‘Sa not a monster?”

“No Diana. It's just a group of insecure men in masks trying to kill people they don't like because of their sexual orientation.” 

“Oh. ‘Kay. Wait, what?” Diana’s mouth and cheek were starting to swell now. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Dean asked, moving around to get a better look at her injuries. “Where’s Sam?” 

“It's a Reaper!” Sam yelled as he jogged to them, something in his hand. As he got closer, Dean realized it was a shoe. “They have a Reaper doing their bidding. We found one of them with it in the woods. It was changed up in glowing cuffs and… what happened to him?” Sam leaned over Lynn to get a better look at the unconscious and very bloody man laying on the grass. 

“Power of Christ compelled him, Sammy.” Dean smirked. That was pretty funny. Sam didn't agree if his expression had anything to say about it. “Side note: don't piss of Lynn, because…” he did a Ta-Da motion to the guy. 

“Wait.. that … that wasn't you?” Sam looked from Dean to Lynn who was now dabbing at Diana's split lip with a tissue. “Damn.” 

“You’re berrifying Wynn. My ba’ass guwlfwend.” Diana fluttered her eyelashes poorly. 

Lynn shook her head as she dabbed at the blood pooling on Diana’s chin. “Stop talking Diana. Your lip is cut and swelling. We need ice.”

“Kay” Diana saluted, grin splitting across her face. 

“I said stop it! How did this happen anyways?” 

“One of them smacked her face first into a tree.” Sam leaned his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “Then when we wasted the one binding the reaper, the guy in the cloak smashed her face into the jutting rocks by the fire.”

Dean looked puzzled at his brother. “Fire?”

Sam shook his head. “Don’t ask. They’re really fucked up Dean. One of them kept sticking hunting knives dipped in blood into the trees.” 

Lynn groaned, pointing to a heap on the other side of the cemetery. “I think that’s Todd. I think the blood was his.” Dean moved his light over to the lump, Todd’s dead eyes staring back at him. “Guess when he was in the parade, they counted that as a traitorous move.” She sighed, looking over Diana’s face for more wounds. “What now? We’ve never had this many civilians in a case like this?” 

“Dwug em” Diana muttered. “We get dwugs fwum the mowge and inject ‘em in theiw toes.” 

“I understood maybe three of those words.” Dean retorted. Diana glowered, signing aggressively at Lynn. 

“She says ‘we steal drugs from the morgue, inject them between the toes and say they attacked me and Lynn in the parking lot of the motel and dragged us to the woods.’ Really Diana? That’s the plan?”

“You have a bedda idea?” She mumbled.

\----——-

The flashing lights of the state police washed out the town square in hues of alternative red and blue. Todd had been wheeled away in the back of an ambulance, unable to be resuscitated. The men they caught in the cemetery were identified as the funeral directors at the funeral parlour in the neighbouring town. The rangers and police were still looking in the woods for the other three, but they had bagged the knives from the trees and had finally finished questioning the hunters. 

Diana’s face was still swollen, but the medics deemed her fit enough to go, an ice pack and some liquid stitches being the best they could do. She held a cardboard case of something in the hand that wasn’t currently holding the ice to her face. 

Dean moved over on the hood of the Impala to make room for Diana. He and Sam usually ended a hunt with a few beers, but since Diana didn't drink, he supposed he'd bite the bullet and try the hipster garbage ‘artisanal’ sodas Sam picked up in town. She popped the top of one with her ring and handed it to him before opening her own. Despite the shitty night they had trying to get everything right, the weather was quite nice. 

“This isn't half bad,” Dean mused. He took another pull from the bottle. “Actually, the aftertaste is better than the actual soda.”

Diana huffed a laugh, something that seemed to be her default laugh at this point, shaking her head. “They're not as great as the hard apple cider in Virginia, but it's still the closest thing to apple pie in a bottle you can get.” She abandoned the ice bag and took a pull herself. 

Dean nodded. “Do you miss it? Drinking I mean?”

Diana paused, rolling the bottle between her hands. “Kinda? The atmosphere definitely, just being around a campfire and having a few drinks, or going to a bar brings back memories. I kind of… I just wanted to feel numb most of the time,” she sighed. “It was all too much all of the time. Mom, war, dad dying, working, monster hunting - it was overwhelming and it was so easy to just… get drunk, feel numb, and pretend that there wasn't a crushing anvil on my life 24/7. But do I miss how isolated it made me from Susan? Or how I'd wake up in strange bedrooms and bathrooms not knowing how I got there? Or worse, a jail cell or hospital bed? Fuck. No.” She leaned over and clinked her bottle against Dean’s. “I sure as shit don't miss it enough to stop sobriety now.”

“Here, here.” He said, clinking back. “Was it- I mean of course it was.”

“What?”

“Hard”

“Oh yeah, it was shit most of the time. But I kinda had no choice in the matter.”

“Why? What happened?”

Diana sighed, taking several long gulps of the apple drink, her throat clicking when she pulled away. She looked around at the police to make sure no one was eavesdropping before leaning in and whispering, “I may or may not have stolen a cop car. While the cop was still in it.”

Dean laughed, full belly shaking and diaphragm feeling like it'd give out. One of the crime scene techs shot him a disapproving look, but he didn’t care. 

“In my defence! In my defence, I thought the cop was a shifter. Turns out no, I was just too damn drunk. I was slapped with a court order and Susan had to drag me to rehab. And every AA meeting for a year cuz I had a suspended license. It sucked, but man, I was not a great person when I was drinking.”

Dean nodded, wiping at the tears on his face.

“I…” he nodded again, motioning for her to keep going. “It’s my fault the Men of Letters tried to kill our friend. I… the four of us worked a hunt, and Lynn stayed back with our friend when Susan and I went to question a witness. I fell off the wagon and had a drink. It was only one, but it’s never just one when you’re an addict. Well, when I was at the bar, Lynn got attacked. The fucker waited until I was in the bar, got me a free drink, and slipped out to attack them both. I blamed my friend for it.”

“Diana, it’s not-“

“Oh Dean.” Her voice thick with guilt. “I wish it was something small and stupid, like ‘I can’t trust you’ or ‘you should have been prepared.’ But it wasn’t. What I did - what I said-“ the glass bottle clanked down on the hood. The flashing lights illuminated her bruises and washed her eyes in shame. “It was inexcusable. In no feasible, rational scenario would it have been even barely possible to have said and done what I did then. I… I offered, when I heard those British fucks were coming over seas, I offered, I said ‘you don’t ever have to forgive me, you never have to talk to me again, I don’t care. Just please, please come with us and we’ll keep each other safe and alive.’ But…”

“No dice.”

“Nope. No dice.”

He thought about what it would be like if he didn't drink, if he didn't have reasons to drink, but that ideal world in his head didn't exist so long as monsters were still creeping around on earth, so why should he even bother? He looked around at the techs bagging evidence, and one of the men being pushed into a cop car and wondered if it would be different if all their cases were human related. He wondered if their monsters killed so many people and people killed so many people, did what they do actually help? Although, if Diana could do it, managing her PTSD without booze, maybe it could be worth a try. Instead of asking about the process of it though, he blurted out “so when’d you come out?” before he could catch himself. 

Diana simply raised an eyebrow, staring down at him for several seconds. “Officially? After Lynn started hunting with us. Unofficially; must have been… sixteen, maybe seventeen. We stuck around long enough that I spent an entire year in one school and had a friend who dated this guy but I hated him so much, and I could never figure out why. It wasn't till she kissed me that I realized it was cuz he was dating her, and I wasn't.” She smirked at the memory. “How about you?”

“What?” He flustered. “What about me? I'm not-”

“Cool it!” She raised her hands up in defence. “Dude, I know how messed up the hunter mentality is when it comes to sexuality. Try being in the army when ‘don't ask, don't tell’ was still in effect.” She turned to look at Sam and Lynn from across the square, talking amongst themselves easily. “I know how hard it is to come to terms with it, or even trying to pin down some sort of label just to make sense of your own feelings - not that you need a label. But man, hiding that deep down cuz you feel like you have to is going to do more harm than just embracing it. Sam probably already knows anyways and you know he'll accept it when you're ready to talk about it. And it's not like I'm gonna judge either way.” She drained the rest of her bottle and placed it on the metal behind her. “You grew up during the height of the AIDS epidemic, right?” He nodded numbly. “You probably saw first hand how awful gay people were treated because they were seen as unclean because of a disease that no one knew about was spreading in their community. But it's a different era now, a different way of life. It's still shit in parts of the world - hell, we just tracked down an entire group of homophobes! And I'm not saying you're obligated to march in the parade and put a rainbow penis sticker on the back bumper of the Impala.”

Dean held back his drink, almost spewing it out. “I would never put any bumper sticker on Baby. She's a lady.” 

“Of course not!” Diana laughed. “I'm just saying… lying to yourself is a huge disservice to the amazing person you are. Terrifying - most definitely- but still pretty cool. Besides, you're allowed to be both. You don't need to pick a side.”

“Both?”

“As in both-sexual. Bisexual, I mean.”

“Are… are you- I mean, you don't have to-”

“Yes Dean, I’m bi.”

“And Lynn….?”

“Is aware of it, yes. And she is straddling the line between lesbian and demisexial.”

His face screwed up in confusion. “Demi-what now?”

“You know what? I'm just going to get you you a copy of my favourite e-book. They explain it far better than I could anyway. But, if you want to talk more about it afterwards, I'm just a phone call or text away. But deeper stuff? Lynn's always welcoming new patients.”

“But… you two are dating, so…”

“She takes doctor/patient confidentiality very seriously. I brought her lunch once and her patient was leaving her office, and the guy was wearing full on clown makeup, and wearing a full three piece tuxedo in bright pink - she refused to even acknowledge him to me. That's why she wears so many layers - they're full of secrets.” She stage whispered. 

Dean chuckled. “Thanks Diana, I'll ugh- keep that in mind. And about your friend… if you need anything?”

“I honestly wouldn’t know where to start. But I’ll keep you posted.” He nodded and before he could say anything else, she pulled him into a fierce hug. “I know something bad happened to you just before we met, and Sam won’t say what, and the hunters… their gossip is unreliable so I won’t pry, but whatever it is, you have to learn to live despite it. I’ve got your back, and if you need me, or any of us, you come stay with us for the weekend.” She pulled away, holding his jaw in her hand in an intimate moment he wasn’t expecting. “Okay?” 

“Okay.” His voice was small, nothing he’d ever admit to anyone if ever asked, but her smile was warm, her hand gently patting him on the cheek before withdrawing completely.

“Well,” Dean startled at Sam’s voice, turning to see his brother and Lynn standing by the Impala now. “The state cops said they’d cover the cost of our motel but since it’s listed under a fake name, I suggest we get the hell out of here.”

“Oh, the name’s not fake.” Diana shrugged. “Hey man, some of my old ‘clients’ were married at the time. Now they’re in positions of power, and unless they want their wives finding out….” 

Dean smirked at her, chuckling. “You sly devil, you. Damn! It’s good to hunt with you guys again.” 

Lynn shook her head, smile breaking over her face. “Hey Di, remember that gold vapourizer the Brits stole from you?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Diana rolled her shoulders as she got off the car to hug Sam goodbye. “That was the creme de la creme of my prototypes.”

“Well,” Lynn linked her arm with her girlfriend’s steering her back to the motel to pack their things. “Dean was telling me he and Sam got a chance to use it, and you’re never going to guess what it does. Bye guys!” Lynn and Diana turned to wave, then walked faster to grab their stuff as Lynn regaled her the tale Dean and Sam pieced together for her earlier. 

Sam leaned down, sitting where Diana had sat not moments ago. “They’re very impressive, huh?”

“More and more each time. Diana’s an inventor and Lynn almost killed that guy back there!” 

“I know!” Sam laughed. “It’s scary how much they remind me of-“ he looked away suddenly. 

“Of who?” 

“No one. Everyone? Diana reminds me a bit of you, which isn’t surprising, but She also reminds me of…” 

“Charlie.” Dean swallowed the rest of his soda, pushing off the hood to stand. “She reminds me of Charlie. And Lynn reminds me of Kevin and mom and Ca-“ he grabbed at the glass bottle on the hood and motioned for Sam to get inside. “She reminds me of you, actually. She was harping on everything Diana ate, pushing salad on her. Ugh!” 

Sam laughed. “Hey! Vegetables are good for you!” 

“Yeah, but at what cost, Sam?! They’re gross!” The bickering didn’t stop until they got on the interstate, and even then, Sam insisted Dean at least take a multivitamin all the way back home to Kansas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took so long cuz I straight up forgot I hadn’t already posted it. Or finished it. So I worked on other chapter instead. Oopsie? 
> 
> Also, the harvest god Hecanane is something I made up. No lore matched the profile and I was too lazy to re-write.


	4. Acceptance... sort of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn’t love a wedding and an elusive 10 foot- not 12- Wait 14? Foot tall dalek-like monster trying to get you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took forever because there’s not a lot of lore on this one, also I kept cutting scenes, then re-adding them, then cutting them again... doesn’t matter. It’s done. Also, this should be two chapters for its length but I don’t wanna split it, so... yeah.

“What did Sister Mary Sue say about Jack?” Dean turned sharply to the right to avoid a truck barreling down the dirt road opposite them. The early summer breeze helping to stop the heat from setting into the car. 

Sam popped a piece of gum in his mouth, too tired to tell his brother to slow down. Again. “He hasn't had an incident since accidentally setting the bedding on fire, so that's good. He’s been asking a lot of questions they don’t really know how to answer, but he’s doing better in math and history, so theres a plus, I guess. He's been spending most of his time out of classes in the church garden. The reverend is teaching him about the meaning of flowers.”

Dean hummed. He couldn't really care about how much better Jack was doing in his studies or how he was blending with the rest of his peers in the Christian boarding school Sam set him up in. Dean personally couldn't look Jack in the eyes when the kid couldn't bring Castiel back to him, so what use was he? It felt so wrong to say that about a kid, so Dean never voiced this out loud to anyone, especially not Sam. He couldn't talk about his own blood related kids, how could he have any attachment to the literal anti-Christ? 

“Left ahead at the lights, then the first right.” Sam looked at the map on his phone, quickly changing the subject. “Susan sounded really anxious on the phone about this abandoned church; did you get what she was saying on the phone? Cuz when she called me, all she said-” 

“Was come quick.” Dean finished for him. “ ‘We need you here stat. Bring your fed suits and holy water. I'll tell you when you get here.’ Basically the same thing. She sounded anxious, but not scared, so I'm thinking maybe a lower level demon? But they don't hunt those, so…” 

“Yeah. I don't know man. Sounds like a trap to me.” Sam said. 

Dean hummed again. “If it is, then we better be prepared. You got the spray paint for the devil’s trap?” Sam nodded. “Okay. And we have Ruby’s knife and we have a shit ton of holy water. We just have to be… uh. Sam?” Dean pointed ahead of the car with his chin, mouth falling open. 

“Oh. Shit. That's- that's not so abandoned Dean.”

“Yeah.” Dean breathed, pulling into the driveway of the very newly painted and restored church. “That sure as shit isn't.” 

They looked at the Google image screen cap of the church on Sam’s phone and looked at the building before them. It was definitely in the same place, and some of the main framework of the church was still incorporated in the design, but that was it. The front of the building was newly renovated, a porch wrapping around the front of the house and a gable roof above it in blue and white colours. Most of the original windows were there, the shutters fixed and stained teal. The shrubbery around the front screamed suburban paradise even though the closest neighbour was at least a ten minute walk away, and an honest to goodness cobblestoned path led from the dirt road to the front door, flowers lining each side. To the left, a smaller metal structure stood with the door wide open, revealing the Wilson’s trailer parked inside, their truck in front of it. 

“What… the… fuck?” Dean asked, slowly getting out of his vehicle. He pulled his gun out when he heard dogs barking. 

Sam got out slower, grabbing salt rounds and a bottle of holy water from the back seat. “Is this… a house? Do we ring the bell?” 

Dean shrugged but moved to the front door anyway, eyes skittering across the property. He heard Sam carefully step on the cobblestones behind him, walking at a slower pace. There were just three steps from the path to the front door, and Dean checked each one with a toe before stepping onto it fully. Nothing gave way so he continued. When he got to the front door, he toed the welcome mat to see a Devil’s trap spray painted onto the underside of it. “What in the…” 

There was a flurry of movement behind the door and Sam warned him with a calling of his name, but the door burst open and he found himself face to face to Lynn in full duckie flannel pyjamas, oversized bunny slippers on her feet with two unbelievably huge dogs barking at them between her legs. 

“Sam! Dean! You’re here early!” Lynn took each brother into a hug, her hair a mess but her face smiling. “We weren’t expecting you guys until Friday night.”

“Ah, well,” Dean looked at Susan behind Lynn only to have her motion a throat slitting gesture before turning back to the woman. “We couldn’t wait and thought we’d... help out early?” He turned to Sam to gesture but the moose man was already nodding along. 

“Wonderful! Oh!” She turned back to Susan and whispered something in her ear and after the two nodded, she grabbed at Sam’s hand. “Since you’re here early, I have an idea. Why don’t I set you up on a date? She's really fun, and she’s been a family friend of ours for years.”

“Oh, uh. N- no thanks Lynn. I’m not-” 

Dean leaned in to whisper angrily at Susan. “Susan, what the hell?!”

“I'll tell you later.” She stage whispered back. 

Lynn chuckled at Sam's blushing face. “Nonsense! She’s just in the kitchen here,” she started tugging him towards the kitchen and Dean followed closely behind. He turned just as Susan pulled out her phone and started recording the exchange. If Dean’s eyebrows could go higher, they’d fly right off his face. “There’s this fantastic little restaurant in town, not too fancy but they make amazing cheesecake and the owners are very sweet!”

“Lynn, really, I-” Sam froze in the doorway, effectively blocking Dean and Susan. 

“Sam, I want you to meet - or should I say, reacquaint you with - my very good friend Eileen.” 

Dean pushed his brother forward to get a look. There she sat, slowly standing from the small kitchen table, cheeks sunken in from fatigue, hair in a loose braid. Her skin was sallow, eyes hooded but sparkling as the light hit them. She looked a little banged up with a few bruises on her face and a bandage on her arm, but she was in front of them - alive. Dean looked to Sam, seeing his brother’s face switching quickly between pure relief and gut wrenching fear. 

“Hi Sam.” She said as she signed, smile lighting up her face. 

Sam turned to Lynn who signed as she spoke. “It’s really her. We found her in Belgium three days ago, being used as a blood bag by some vamps. Our contact in Germany helped a lot, and I'll tell you about that later. She wanted to surprise you so… surprise!” Lynn gestured at Eileen who splayed her fingers in a ‘jazz hands’ formation for effect. The middle finger on one hand in a splint, the metal catching the light. 

Sam couldn’t speak. He just stood there staring at her for a few moments before striding forward and wrapping her in a crushing hug, lifting her as he did. Her breath came out in an aborted laugh and Dean had to look away to hide the fact that he was about to cry. 

“So your friend that the British MOL tried to kill..?”

“Yep!” Susan turned off the recording and pocketed the phone. “Turned out it was a selkie skin. Actually, a shifter-selkie skin. Apparently shifters and selkies can mate, and when selkies shed their skin-”

“It stays intact.” Dean shook his head. “Monsters.”

“Yup! Turns out the medical examiner on her case was covering up for it's young, who tried to rob a convenience store as Eileen a few blocks away, and that’s why the autopsy was so poorly done. Or rather, not done. It was a whole mess. Frankly, part of me is kind of impressed by the whole thing - the work put into it all was straight out of a mystery novel. I-” her smile fell, voice dropping an octave lower. “Lynn and I were so sure it was her though. It was so unbelievably close, but Diana refused to accept it. She still blames herself for the whole thing, and she’s giving Eileen space to breathe. But we found her! And perfect timing too.” A smile broke over her face again, relief palpable. 

Sam let down Eileen to her feet but refused to let go of her, perhaps scared that it was all a dream and he would awaken soon and she would dissolve. She looked up at him with hope and happiness. “I'm still a little jet-lagged, but if you're comfortable going out tonight…” Eileen smiled up at him, unable to sign the words as he had her hands pinned against her sides. He nodded, a sob coming from his chest as he tried to keep under control. 

Susan turned to Dean, eyes set. “Diana’s in the barn. If you want, you can go join her. It’s about to get super mushy in here.”

“Join her doing what exactly?” He pulled Susan back towards the front door, trying to give Sam and Eileen privacy. “Why are we here? And why were you so damn cryptic and why did Sam and I bring so much holy water?!”

Susan looked very guilty. “Okay, so I meant to call you guys two weeks ago but then we got pulled all the way over into Germany to find Eileen, and then there was this whole fuss with the caterers, and the disaster dress fitting-”

Dean grabbed her shoulders. “What?!”

“Oh. Yeah. So, I sent out everyone’s invitations but I didn't have your guy's address because, what bunker has a mailing address? But um,” she breathed out heavily through her nose. “Lynn and Diana are getting married. Here. This Saturday.” She raised her hands, splaying her fingers like Eileen and shook them gently. “Ta-da?”

Dean let go of her, eyes bugging out of his head. “What? No. Really? You didn't- but-” he huffed. A smile broke out over his face. “Why didn't you email us?” 

“Don't have your email.”

Dean sighed. “Okay. Remind me to give you that. And the bunker’s address. You guys are welcome anytime. Honestly, I’d be nice to have some more company. So,” he leaned against the wall with an eyebrow raised. “Who asked who?”

Susan laughed, tension leaving her body. “They both did. Diana pulled a ring out and tried to get on her knees but then Lynn yelled ‘oh no you don't!’ and pulled one from her own pocket and they just,” she laughed harder. “Dean, we were at a farmer’s market and these two dorks kept shoving a ring into the other’s face saying ‘no, I'm proposing’ over and over again until people started clapping. It was so fucking funny. Lynn finally took the ring from Diana's hand and shoved it on her finger and shoved her ring on Diana's. And of course Diana had that stupid grin on her face and oh! I caught it all on video. I'm gonna play it at the reception.” 

Dean laughed. “Of course they would do that! Did Diana tell you she was going to propose?”

Susan smirked, hands folding over her chest as she leaned against the opposite wall. “Diana’s had a ring burning a hole in her pocket for over a year now. So has Lynn. They both told me. I decided to… wait and see what happened.” She clacked her nails together like a nineteen-sixties movie villain before bringing them to her face to blow on them as if she were waiting for the polish to dry. “Figured it was the least I could do for fun after walking in on them making out without telling me.” They snickered in the hallway a moment, a dog making it's way to Dean. 

“Uh…” The dog looked more bear than dog, it's frame almost as big as a hellhound, it's fur short and dark. The dog had jowls like a mastiff, drool leaking from the side of its mouth in lines, face squished in like a pug making his breathing loud as he sniffed Dean all over. “Good doggie?” Dean slowly reached out to pat him on the head only for said doggie to jump up, placing his paws on the man’s shoulders, sniffing his entire head before giving his face sloppy, saliva filled kisses. “Ugh! Get- please get off! Get off man!”

Susan laughed. “Down Brutus!” The dog obeyed her, climbing off Dean to lean his entire weight on Susan’s hip. “This is Brutus. He's a mix… of a bunch of dogs. Who knows exactly what. He likes to lean on people, even though he weighs almost 250. The other dog is Artemis. Part pitbull, part Tibetan mastiff. He sheds like crazy and Brutus drools like crazy so our house is never clean.” She scratched Brutus’ chin and the dog went limp under her touch. 

Big scary dog that could eat me in two bites, Dean thought. And his one weakness is chin scratches. “That's fine with me Susan. Uh… so is there a motel in town, or…?”

Susan moved to rub at Brutus’ ears. “Don't be ridiculous. Diana made up rooms. You and Sam get the first one on the right. Eileen gets the last one on the left. You know, in case.” She winked at him. She let go of Brutus’ face and he bounded into the living room to the right to sit on the couch. “They can basically go anywhere except the garage and Lynn’s office, so don't worry if you find them trying to sit on your beds.” 

“Noted.” She walked him through the basic floor plan of the house and he had to say, he was impressed. Susan and Diana had bought the abandoned church when their mom died, Susan explained, Diana coming back from the war with shrapnel in her organs and no will to live in the trailer another day. The church was dirt cheap and still considered hallowed ground so they just built up and out. The old graveyard had been ripped out, as well as most of the church from a freak tornado back in the nineties, so there were no graves or headstones around, and the haunting had been dealt with when the remaining corpses’ souls decided they didn't like the Wilsons moving in on their turf. The place looked really nice despite once being left to rot away. He didn’t miss the expensive trim and the projector in the living room. There was also a flat screen TV between some built in bookcases in the living room that had Diana written all over them. Dean listened intently as Susan explained it all to him, even when she went on for a good five minutes about the vintage windows she had found with Lynn at an estate sale. 

The main floor had a good sized kitchen, living room, and an office for Lynn where the priest’s old living quarters used to be. The second floor had six bedrooms: one for Diana and Lynn, another for Susan, and the rest were left for guests. One of the bedrooms were filled with wedding decorations and a soft grey dress hanging from the curtain rod by the window. Susan lead him around, leaving out the basement in the tour since they hadn’t bothered with it yet. “Diana doesn’t do underground,” was all Susan said on the matter. 

He moved back down to the kitchen, passing Eileen and Sam, to go out the back door. Behind the house was a run down barn, the startings of a vegetable patch, and a forest starting several hundred feet off behind it. As Dean got closer to the barn, he could hear pop music playing inside. And as he reached the big red door, he saw that Diana was singing along to it, off key. 

“Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight  
Lead me out on the moonlit floor  
Lift you open hand  
Strike up the band, and make the fireflies dance silvermoon's sparkling  
So kiss me”

She was sweeping as she moved, dancing slightly as she did, highly uncoordinated and sloppy but still light on her feet. 

“Kiss me down by the broken tree house  
Swing me, upo- oh my GOD!” She turned mid lyric and let out a yelp at seeing Dean standing there. He tried so hard not to laugh but a smile broke through regardless. “You can’t just sneak up on me like that! What if I had my gun? What if I threw the broom at you? What if you gave me a heart attack!” She panted, holding her hand against the exposed skin of her chest. 

“I’m sorry but just-” he couldn't help but chuckle. “Sixpence? Really?” 

Diana straightened herself, lowering the volume with a remote she procured from her pocket. “I’m getting married this weekend: fight me!” She thrust the broom handle into his hands. “Stop laughing and come help me sweep this place. It’s long overdue for a new floor and the tiles won’t stick to it if it’s dusty.”

“Tiles?” 

Diana grabbed another broom from against a wall and swept on the opposite site of the barn. “Linoleum tiles. Peel and stick. I would never have gotten them personally, but a very greatful couple gave them to us after we saved their son from a vampire nest last month. Lynn dropped that we were getting married so they gave us their overstock for nothing, and I sure as shit don’t want it in the house. Susan threatened to dye my hair blue in my sleep if I didn’t make the barn look nice.” 

“Oh yeah, linoleum tile is so trashy and so last decade.” Dean said, mocking an HGTV show host. 

Diana laughed. “It’s so garish for a turn of the century home like ours!” She replied in the same tone. 

“What you need is ceramic tile, alternating in glazed tiles for the kitchen and bathroom, and rough raw ones for the entryway.”

“Oh, and hardwood for the bedrooms.”

“Oh, deeeeeeefinitely!” They both burst into laughter. 

“Oh man,” Diana took her sleeve and wiped at her eyes. “I love Phyliss Huricane but the way she drones on like that..!”

“Ugh. Agreed.” Dean paused mid sweep to look at her seriously. “Don't tell Sam or anyone else that I watch that show.” 

Diana turned to face him, left eyebrow cocked. “And admit that I watch Hurricane House Hunting too? No thanks. Your secret is safe with me babe. Just like this paaaaaaint colooooooooooooooooour!” She exclaimed, mimicking Phyllis’ voila gesture. Dean laughed, thankful to not be alone in his weird tv guilty pleasures. 

Dean sighed. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, old man.” She smirked. 

“Old man? How dare you! You’re like, what? Three, four years younger than me? Old man! Hah!”

Diana chuckled, ruffling his hair. “There’s some new grey hairs in there since last I saw you.”

“And there’s some new weight around your middle since I last saw you.”

She huffed at his gentle teasing. “Thanks for noticing! Lynn and I must have tried a hundred and five different cake samples before Susan just went ahead with whatever she wanted.” Diana pressed on the pudge making its home on her lower abdomen, face upturnt in a sour expression. 

Dean sighed and moved closer, lifting his shirt up just enough to show her his own little pouch. “Now we match.” 

She looked up at him with a smile bright enough to light the whole barn, and leaned forward just far enough to touch her belly with his. It was awkward with how much shorter than him she was, but that didn’t stop them from laughing about it while they swept. 

When they were finished sweeping, they started to mop the concrete floor as well, singing along to whatever played on the radio station. They exchanged a few words back and forth, but spent most of the time in companionable silence. It was nice to have a friend like this again. They didn't have that kind of luxury in their work, and the Wilsons seemed to be in a similar boat. Dean loved Sam and his company, but being able to spend time with someone who wasn’t related to him was a welcome distraction from the awfulness they both had endured over the past three decades. He had to admit, his self inflicted isolation in his room at the bunker wasn’t helping. He looked at Diana for a moment and wondered not for the first time if she and Charlie would have gotten along together. They both were fans of the same shows and movies, and both seemed to worm under his skin in a short time. The thought left a hollow feeling in his stomach and pushed it away when Diana slipped in a wet patch and caught herself against the wall in a particularly ridiculous pose. 

Laying all the linoleum tile themselves would have taken far too long, so after the mopping, they headed back to the house. The backdoor led directly to the kitchen, so Lynn waved from the sink as they came in. 

“Lunch?” She moved to wipe sweat from Diana's brow with a paper towel. 

Diana kissed her fiancé’s cheek in response before moving to start something on the stove. “Pasta okay for everyone?” 

“So long as you use up that leftover sausage from yesterday.” Lynn pulled up a chair to fall into, lifting her legs into a chair opposite her. “Sam and Eileen went out onto the porch about an hour ago. I’d give them their space.”

Dean sat next to her, nodding. “How did you know it wasn’t her. Eileen. The body I mean.”

“Easy,” Diana said, filling a pot with water at the sink. “She didn’t have her tattoo.”

“Her anti-demon possession tattoo?”

Diana and Lynn paused before laughing. “No! Oh man, we were suuuuuper drunk years ago and got matching tattoos in New Orleans after a case. It was Mardis Gras and we had to mark the occasion.”

Dean chuckled before raising a brow in suspicion. “What kind of tattoo?”

“Nope! Not a chance mister!” Susan entered the room in comically large bunny slippers. “That’s a secret between us four.” She grabbed a box of pop tarts from a cupboard and shuffled back out in seconds. 

Lynn chuckled opening the front of her draped sweater, the purple stone of her necklace catching the light. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s with the necklace?”

Lynn touched the pendant curiously. “Well, customarily people wear jewelry for a number of religious, aesthetical, and-“

“I know that, I’ve just never seen one like that.”

“Diana made it for me.”

He swiveled in his chair. “What?”

“She bought a kit online to grow alum crystals and she grew it for our second anniversary. We were on the road the whole time, hunt after hunt and I didn’t even notice it. She even planned it out so I didn’t notice her pick up the package from the post office. It’s my favourite thing.” She poured two cups of coffee from the pot on the table, offering the second to him. 

“Why does it glow?”

“She painted the back of it with reflective nail polish. There’s some glitter back there too. I think she just went a tad overboard cuz she wanted to impress me.”

He sipped from his mug, thinking. “What did you get her?”

“Me. I was her gift.” They smirked. Diana huffed as she threw salt into the now boiling pot. “I got her an AC/DC shirt and her lock pick ring.”

“A what?”

Diana turned to slip off one of her rings, walking three steps to get to the table and show it off. As she ran the tip of her fingernail on the inside, a little stip of metal popped away. Straightening it revealed a row of teeth on one side, much like his pocket lock pick set. “So you can use this for getting into places? Or just handcuffs.”

“Only ever tried on handcuffs, so I have no clue. It’s saved our bacon many a time, so I’m grateful someone made it.” She moved to place a hand on Lynn’s cheek. “And thankful Lynn gets me.”

Lynn smiled, hiding her face in her mug and mumbled, “it's a damn good thing that you’re predictable then.” 

Dean just drank his coffee and watched as they moved around together. Diana’s shoulders were relaxed, forehead smooth with peace for the first time since he met them almost two years ago. The both of them were calm, in fact, almost as if they weren’t about to get married and have a whole house full of hunters. He wondered how long it took them to get here. How long it took to fix the house, to make it a home. How long it took before they let themselves have a sliver of happiness and peace. He hoped once for a life like theirs, but it didn’t work with Lisa. 

It was always such a bitter thought to think of his time with her and Ben. He loved them both, but it always felt like he was the outsider, no matter how much Lisa tried to convince him otherwise. He’d never tell Sam, but he was having more dreams lately about his time there, making breakfast every morning, going out to the movies with Lisa, re-learning to ride a bike to go out with Ben. Sometimes it was just the three of them eating dinner in the back patio while the sun set around them. Dean liked those the most. They also hurt the most, the normalcy and calmness of it all. But he wasn’t having any sex dreams with Lisa, and he was thankful for small mercies. If he’d dream that, there would be nothing that could drag him out of his room in the bunker. He wondered if he had left the life when they first met, both nineteen and still full of hope. He could have been there through Ben’s first steps, his first day of school, his first crush - but he couldn’t let those thoughts take over his brain, especially not now. So he sat sipping his coffee as Diana made pasta, Lynn informing him about how their last hunt had almost turned sideways when Susan mistook a water gun for the real deal. 

\-----------------------

Dean sat on his bed in their joint guest room as Sam took his sweet time picking a shirt for his date with Eileen. “Just go with the dark green one. It doesn’t have any blood on it.”

Sam huffed. His shoulders had been tight as soon as he walked in, anxiety radiating off him in waves of steam. “That shouldn’t be how low the bar is set Dean.” He pulled the shirt from his bag, huffing again at the wrinkles in the garment. “It’s all wrinkled anyways, ugh!” 

“Hey, Sam. Its okay.” Dean stood, launching into full big brother mode. “I’ll ask the girls for an iron and we’ll press it, okay?”

Sam sighed. “Okay. I just-” his voice dropped to a whisper. “I really like her Dean. I didn’t think i could be with someone like this since Jess.”

Dean's eyebrows raised at that. “Not even with that vet lady?”

“Amelia and I … made it work I guess, but it always felt like I was intruding on her life. We kind of just…. fell together. And it's not like I could tell her ‘hey, I hunt monsters with my brother and our angel friend, but they're in purgatory right now. Also, you’re welcome for stopping the apocalypse and every other supernatural Armageddon that ever happened.’ But Eileen's a hunter. She was raised by a hunter. She’s a legacy. She knows the life, and she already knows half of the awful shit we’ve done, and she STILL wants to go out with me!” He laughed dryly, flopping backwards onto the bed. Hands thrown on his face in frustration, muttering, “I really don't want to mess this up.”

Dean took a deep breath, and moved to the edge of the mattress to get closer. “Look, Eileen is still alive. She's alive and everyone could see the look on her face when she saw you today. She clearly likes you too. Maybe just focus on that. Get to know each other better at that restaurant tonight, and just have fun. You're both allowed that.” 

Sam nodded before standing. “Okay, you’re right. I’m gonna go ask Susan for an iron and an ironing board. I just hope it won’t end up showing any hidden stains.”

“Attaboy.” Dean slapped his brother’s back as he exited the room. His baby brother was so unbelievably nervous for his first date, which Dean wasn’t all to shocked about given the fact that Sam was just a giant puppy when it came to emotions, but still. It was all too much on the younger man to push down all the grief he had been carrying since they’d found her corpse - a corpse. Dean wished he knew what to say, and although he could ask Lynn, the timing didn’t feel right. Also, his brain supplied. I thought they’d already secretly slept with each other, so this is weird. Better not mention that tonight. Though it’d be funny. Ha! The look on his face! But, no, come on man! Just chill out. 

When Sam came back with the board and the iron, he took his damn sweet time with ironing the shirt as well. Then the pants got an unreasonable amount of time too. Dean drew the line when he caught Sam starting to iron his damned tube socks and took the iron away from him. Sam just fidgeted nervously after that as he waited for Eileen to be ready. It was driving Dean up the wall, the YouTube video he’d been watching on his laptop long forgotten as he dragged the moose down the stairs to sit in the living room ‘like normal adults, Sam!’

He had hoped that Sam would come sit on the couch next to him and Lynn as some cooking show played on low, but the pacing only got worse. Finally, a sound from upstairs brought all three of them towards the staircase. 

“Woah.” Sam stood at the foot of the stairs with his mouth open. She looked beautiful. Her hair in gentle curls, and a bit of red lipstick on her lips made the black dress look all that much more elegant. The bruise on her face looked better, probably covered up with makeup, but Dean mostly stared at how Susan had matched the ace bandages to the dress. She smiled as she ducked her head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind an ear. He looked at Susan in the kitchen, just out of eyeshot of Eileen and saw her repeat the sign. “Beautiful.” He mimicked the sign, raising his right hand and sweeping in front of his face, spreading and closing his fingers together as best as he could. Eileen’s face broke out into a huge smile, walking quickly down the remaining steps to take his arm. 

“Be back by 1 am!” Diana signed as she opened the door. She also signed something else very quickly to Eileen that he couldn’t catch and Eileen hit her in the shoulder gently in annoyance as they passed. 

“What was that about?” He asked, but she only shook her head and laughed. 

Dean spent the rest of the evening catching up on tv with Diana and Lynn as Susan kept re-organizing the seating chart on the livingroom floor. It seemed that she took her job as maid of honour a little too seriously as she moved their neighbours the McGuinty’s for the fourth time since sitting down. Dean kept his mouth shut though. He wanted to see who else was invited that were hunters and he couldn't do that if she snatched the board and took it with her. 

He had no idea the Wilsons knew so many of the same people he and Sam did, but it shouldn't be that much of a surprise since the Winchesters were kept as far away from everyone else for fear of dying. But seeing Donna and Jody put at the same table on the chart with Claire and Alex made him settle in the couch more comfortably. The guest list was still small - no more than twenty five - and he wouldn’t have to make small talk with any strangers past what he did and how he knew the brides. It was going to be great wedding.

It was a fairly lazy evening as the four of them ordered a pizza in and threw their own personal commentary on what theories they had for the last Dungeon of Thorns season. 

Dean finally headed to bed at midnight, but fought exhaustion to try and wait up for Sam to come home from his date. He felt a little ridiculous, waiting up for his little brother who was also a grown ass man to come home from a DATE. But Eventually, exhaustion won and Dean slept through the whole night, far too comfortable in his pillow topped bed and memory foam pillow to wake up when Sam came in at three.

\------

The next day was filled with far more action than the previous one. Everything seemed to be arriving in thirty minute increments, Dean gave up sitting down entirely to just stand at the front porch, ready to sign anything that came to the house. Susan clearly went overboard, the amount of speakers alone were overkill, but she just shrugged and said something about making up for lost time. Dean had signed off his name about twelve times before he wondered if they would be expecting live swans and a ice sculpture as well. Or an ice sculpture OF swans. 

The dresses arrived just after lunch; the designer delivering them himself. The man looked like the cartoon drawing of a snooty aristocratic Frenchman ready to ask him what wines he would be sampling this eventing. It was a bit of a shock to hear the man’s Australian drawl not seconds later as he had Dean help him bring the gown boxes up the stairs to Lynn and Diana's bedroom. 

“Or do you think they'll be sleeping apart until the big day tomorrow?” He asked once they’d already carted up the shoes and gowns. “You know… tradition! But then again, they're not really traditional sheilas now are they? Only planning this wedding in a month! Who does that?”

“I guess they got tired of waiting.” Dean picked up the pillow that had fallen as he'd drop the last box on their bed. 

“I suppose you're right. They've been waiting six years. That's a long time to wait till getting married. Although, my cousin waited twelve years before they got married to their current spouse. Guess it works for some people.” With that, the man disappeared with a flourish.

He shook his head at the man’s retreating back, feeling whiplash at the entire encounter. Lynn had instructed him to unbox and hang up the dresses on hooks by the closet, but the tape was giving him a hard time. Sighing, he pulled out his switchblade and tore into each box. Dean was a little surprised that both women would be wearing dresses but he caught the shorter of the two with a faint silver plaid patterning on the skirt portion and tried desperately not to laugh. Of course she would, he thought. Only Diana would be this extra. Hanging up Lynn’s dress was more difficult; with all the lace, he spent far too long figuring out which part was the top. Hanging up the lace, he heard laughter flitting up from the window. Outside, Sam and Lynn were setting up the wedding arch while Susan set up the hay bales for the ceremony. Lynn and Sam had gotten into some kind of tiff and started flinging silk flowers at one another, laughing shrilly and being scolded by Susan and her wagging finger. 

As Dean left the room to go back downstairs, he was stopped by Diana. 

She fidgeted on the steps. “Uh, hey Dean, you got a minute? 

“Sure.” He stuffed his hands on his pockets. “What's up? Cold feet? Need time to drive the getaway car?”

“What? No, no, I'm fine. Just wondering…” She wrung her hands a few times. “Would you, uh be my best man?”

Dean drew back in surprise. “What?” 

“Well, see, there’s this tradition where each spouse has a person who acts as their witness - maid of honour, best man, that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, no, I get that. But I just thought Susan-“

Diana laughed. “Yeah, well. When we- when I proposed, Lynn straight up yelled ‘dibs on Susan for MOH!’ and then she threw her hands down in this kinda,” Diana gestured her hands in a half attempt at dunking an invisible basketball, “weird motion thing. Susan of course doesn’t want to play both, and she sure as shit won’t let us just get married without all the bells and whistles. Frankly, Lynn and I wanted to get hitched at city hall and have barbeque, but you can’t stop Susan when she starts.” She sighed deep and long before shaking the cobwebs from her brain loose. “I spoke with Eileen about it but she’s uh- let’s just say she’s just not up for it, which makes sense since she’s still recovering from being trapped by those vamps. And, you know, me being a garbage person to her. So I thought, maybe…” She trailed off, waiting for Dean to say something. 

Dean shuffled from foot to foot, unsure of what to say. He didn’t know them that long or well enough- Now that’s not true. He thought. They’ve let us into their lives even after over a decade of trying to avoid us. They saved our lives back at that warehouse, and at the church, and we’ve known them for over two years now. Shit. “Okay.” He breathed out a long gust of air, letting his features curve into a smile. “I’ll be your best man.”

“Seriously?” Diana raised herself on to her tippy-toes to try and make herself taller. “Are you sure?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. Hell yeah! It’ll be great. Also, you’re not a garbage person.” 

She opened her mouth to argue but startled at the yelling. “Diana!” Susan’s voice pierced through the house from outside, shrill and clearly frustrated. “Get out here and come help me with this!” 

Diana flinched. “I gotta go. But tonight, bachelorette, no bachelor- you know what? Whatever. We’ll call it something else later.” Pulling her short hair into the world’s worst stubby ponytail, she started down the stairs. 

“Okay. Strip club?” He teased to retreating back, earning him a double flip off when she hit the foot of the stairs. He laughed, tummy shaking with the effort. The doorbell rang again, Sam yelling that he would get it.

Dean started to head back to his room to lie down when he caught sight of Eileen in Susan’s room, sitting amongst an entire garden’s worth of white and cream coloured flowers. She ticked something off on her clipboard before grabbing an empty glass vase and began arranging another centrepiece. Dean went to knock on the door before stopping himself, and moved into her line of sight instead. He waved a hand to her her attention and signed “hi.”

“Hi Dean.” Eileen knew that out of everyone else in the house, he was the one who needed the most improvement in signing. She graciously took pity on him and spoke as she signed slowly. “Did Susan stick you to do flowers with me?” She motioned for him to sit on the small stretch of visible rug next to her. 

Dean managed to maneuver his tired knees into an awkward cross legged position, grasping onto the corner of Susan’s bed for support. “Uh, no. I’m just trying to get away from the drama for a while.” They both smiled. Susan was putting everyone on a ridiculously tight schedule. She was quickly become more tyrant than project manager and he needed a break. “But since I’m here, I can help if you show me how.”

Eileen passed him a vase and a piece of paper showing a diagram that Susan had printed off for Eileen to use. “She wants them exactly like that, so I found that putting the big one in the middle first helps a lot with keeping everything nice.”

“Thanks.” They spent a few minutes in comfortable silence as they worked on their designs. It was nice, but Dean needed Eileen’s advice. “Hey,” he put the vase down and got into her eye line. “I need some advice.” His signing was clumsy, but Eileen still responded in kind. 

“Okay. What’s up?”

“Diana asked me to be her best man.”

Her face lit up. “Oh! That’s wonderful!” She chewed on the side of her cheek a moment. “Is she still upset because I said no?”

“What? No! Of course not! She knows you’re still hurting so she wouldn’t put that on you. And also the…” they both grimaced at what he was implying. He didn’t even know what happened but it wasn’t something to talk about now. Maybe stop mentioning it, dude! You’re pulling at a scab here. “Yeah. And no. She just- I’m supposed to be planning her bachelorette or whatever for tonight and I don’t know what to do. Like, who do I invite? What does she like? She said no strippers but what if she actually wants them? And if so, do I get male strippers of female ones?”

She put down her own vase to grab onto his hands. He didn’t realize he was shaking until she stilled them for him. “No strippers; reminds her of when she used to be a prostitute. I would go but I’ll be too tired so I’m just going to stay in bed tonight. Susan and Lynn are going out to a bar, so you don’t have to worry about that.” She pulled her phone out from her pocket, checking something. “She doesn’t drink so booze is out. There’s always fishing. She hasn’t done that in a while.” She turned the screen towards him to show the Virginia Department of Game and Inland Fisheries website. “Maybe do some fishing?” 

Dean thought for the rest of the day how fishing would be great if only he had more time to plan a proper day of it. In the end, he took Eileen’s advice and made do. He packed a cooler full of soda, chocolate bars, and hot dogs, threw two folding chairs into the trunk along with the cooler and a few other things, before taking Diana with him. They couldn’t fish without poles, but the local superstore didn’t have any in stock, so he settled on them just sitting and talking, hoping she’d still enjoy it. He let her ruffle through his tape collection as they sped down the road to the secret destination. 

“Are you going to even tell me where we’re going?” Diana complained, shoving in an AC/DC tape into the slot. 

Dean drummed his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the first few notes as they drifted through the speakers. “Nope!” He popped the P obnoxiously as he smirked. 

Diana just rolled her eyes. She’d been growing out her hair lately, clearly not hunting as often as she was used to, and the wind whipped it up in random patterns as it blew past them. She sighed, pulling a beanie hat from her pocket and stuffing it all into it. Dean glanced at her staring off at the rolling landscape, a look of pure bliss plastered on her face. It was still a shock to see her so happy and breezy. The woman was a tank, a powerhouse who had survived so much and hardened herself to the world to protect everyone she could touch from it. And here she was, just staring out ahead of her, hand on her face, elbow resting on the armrest, letting someone else drive as she was being taken to someplace she didn’t know. A pang of something hit his chest, and it took a second to realize it was jealousy. He felt jealous. But of exactly what, he couldn’t know. 

When they pulled off onto a dirt road twenty minutes later, she sat up a little straighter. The dirt road curved around boulders too big in the looming forest to be moved, and the light from the setting sun was all but extinguished there. The road soon ended however, and they were forced to walk through the footpath with their stuff for several hundred feet before…

“Holy shit.” Diana dropped the chair in her left hand, stock still as she stared ahead. The beach was remote, quite small and too full of rocks and algae for the public to enjoy. But it wasn’t owned by anyone so they weren’t going to be bothered here. “Dude. This is awesome!” 

He smiled, internally throwing his fist in the air in victory. He nudged her forward, and in no time, they had a campfire set up, cooler open and seats facing the water as tiny waves lapped up on the shore. 

“How’d you know?” He asked, handing her a paper plate with a slightly burnt hot dog. 

“Huh?”

“For my best man speech, I gotta do a best man speech right? How’d you know that she was the one?”

Diana laughed, pop bottle forgotten on the top of the cooler beside her “Oh man, I don’t know. I guess, I realized I loved her when she almost died.” She stared at water before them, lost in thought as she spoke. “There was a demon - I really hate demons you know - and she sliced up Lynn six ways to Sunday. You ever hear of death by a thousand cuts?” Dean nodded. “Well this demon was obsessed with it. She cut her so bad that by the time we exorcised the bastard, Lynn was barely conscious. That was when… when I fell off the wagon and I said those things to Eileen, and...” She stared at the hot dog, face dropping at the memory. “Lynn was in a coma for sixteen days. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, I just sat in that chair next to her bed, watching the drips on the IV line and hoping she’d make it through. It was something I never felt so strongly before. I- I” Dean put down his own food on a rock, turning his attention more fully in her direction. “I’ve lost so many, but I’ve never had this- this pit inside me like I did when that happened. Her heart stopped and there was this hole inside me.” She looked past him, fixating on the water and her voice became soft. “When I saw Lynn in that hospital bed though, that hole inside me opened up like a chasm. It hit me that without my mother, without my father, even without Susan I could keep living. But without Lynn-” Diana shook her head, tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. 

“I couldn’t imagine a life where I was still me without her. When she finally woke up, it felt like coming home. I, of course, bottled all that shit in though, because my friend almost died in front of me and suddenly I felt like a lovestruck dumbass who couldn’t string two words together!” She shook her head. “But after a few months, Lynn figured it out. She cornered me in the parking lot of a Denny’s and demanded I tell her what was going on or she’d key my truck to high heaven.” Diana chuckled, swiping at her eyes. “I just shouted at her and she took it all. She didn’t care if I was being a total asshole, because she knew that whatever I was saying was wrapped up in years of trauma. When I stopped, she took my face in her hands and I just… I melted. Like a snowflake on a warm sidewalk. I asked her out them.”

“And she said yes?”

“No, she said ‘only an idiot like you could insult me and ask me out in the same sentence.’ and walked away.” The two laughed for a spell. “But she opened the door to the Denny’s and asked me if I was coming inside. We spent the rest of the night talking over pancakes and coffee. It took us both a long time before we called each other anything. It was hard, it still is at times. The country isn’t what it used to be, sure, but there’s still a lot of ignorance and hate out there. Lynn grew up in a very homophobic environment and I spent a good part of my life being a low rent hooker to men with weird fetishes to keep my family fed. Neither of us knew what the hell we were doing, only knew that it felt right. Being together is like coming home, even when there’s no real home to come to. Susan will always be my sister, and she’ll always hold a special place in my heart, but Lynn is my home. No matter what happens in this fucked up planet, I know one thing for sure and it’s that.”

“Damn.” Dean wiped at his own eyes. “I guess I have my speech then, huh?”

She looked at him, eyes watery, smile wide. “Yeah I guess so.”

“To you and Lynn.” He raised his bottle towards her.

She clinked it with her own. “To Lynn and I.” They took a long pull. “I -“ Diana started; a low guttering sound coming from the woods behind them. “The fuck was that?” She whispered. 

Dean followed her line of sight, pulling his gun from its holster on his lower back. “I don’t know. Stay here.” He moved to stand up but was stopped by a strong hand on his wrist. 

“Like hell I will!” 

“You’re getting married tomorrow! Susan and Lynn will take turns skinning me alive if you’re dead, or hell, even if you have a single bruise on you!” 

Diana pulled a very large knife from her pant leg, far too big for Dean to have not noticed until now, and stood. “Yeah? Well if that’s a monster in there, I want to skin it alive first.”

He nodded, realizing that she would never stay back anyways. She’s as stubborn as I am. Great. We’re both gonna die being dumbasses. 

He flanked the right and her at the left of the opening to the forest footpath, checking around to anticipate anyone or anything that might come forward. A horrible stench of rot and burnt rubber filled the air, the smell so awful they both couldn’t help but start gagging. A menacing clicking noise filled the air, click, click, click, clicking. A groan of metal scraping against rock, a crunch-snap of a tree branch being split in half. Diana pulled the collar of her shirt up over her face, Dean followed her example as he leaned toward the footpath, trying to get a good look.

Nothing. The sound was growing louder, the smell turning sulfuric and a mist coming from the sky falling around them. Diana abandoned her post to stand next to Dean, losing her footing on the rocks a few times. “We gotta get out of here!” 

“Why? What is this thing?!” 

She turned to tell him, but was cut off. Several trees from the left were falling. It was as if someone had simply taken a hand, and bent them backwards much like tearing a sheet of paper on the crisp edge of a desk, the wood splintering and flying several feet forwards and up into the air. A faint green glow behind them became brighter and brighter as the things came forward. 

It must have been at least ten feet tall, several feet wide in a cylindrical shape, looming over the trees with a pipe-like bottom, steam from underneath the tubes as it propelled itself forward. The top half could have easily been mistaken for a rusty upturned stock pot, covered holes where arms should be. It’s head was round with the top pointed upwards like an ace of spades; but the eyes. The eyes were what made Dean’s heart stop. The face of the head part was red, no other features letting them know it even was a face save for two portholes glowing green. 

Dean shifted on his feet as if to attack, but stopped as Diana clasped a hand over his mouth. One handed, she aggressively signed: “don’t move”. So he didn’t move. He stared openly at it as it hovered forward, the sides of the bottom scraping on the fallen trees as it passed. The rocks underneath it started to glow red as the heat from the steam escaping from the pipes shot out onto them. It stopped just short of the fire pit, twin green beams of light shooting out ahead onto it. A high pitched clicking sound emitted from inside, followed by a whirling noise. 

Without warning, the top half swivelled towards them, green light washing their horror stricken faces. “Run!” Diana let go of his mouth to grasp his wrist, fleeing to the footpath, and running at full speed towards the car. Dean glanced back to see the monster turning the rest of itself towards them, steam thrusting it forward. 

“What the fuck! What the fuck! What! The! Fuuuuuuuck!!!” His voice was far too high pitched than normal but he couldn’t care. A giant twelve foot tall robotic monster was heading- “wait! Is that thing getting taller?!”

“Yes!” Diana hollered back, pulling at his wrist forcefully as they skidded to the left as the path formed a fork in the road. “Keep. Fucking. RUNNING!” 

The machine/monster didn’t stop to turn, it just kept barreling through tree after tree like tall grass. They made it to the car, Dean scrambling to open it. Once unlocked, Diana dove for the trunk, opening his weapons stash and rummaging around in it. The thing had caught up to them, eyes glowing green, the clicking and whirring sound back. She grabbed a signal flare, lit it up, and aimed directly at its eyes. The flare merely dented the metal, fell and extinguished itself out on the dirt. “Fuck.” Diana whispered lowly. 

The machine moved closer, fourteen feet now, towering over most of the trees, the smell wafting up above them so strongly Dean turned to his side and puked all over the nearest patch of grass. When he straightened, the holes on the sides of the upturned stock pot torso opened up, two robotic stick like arms emerged, the thin long fingers on each hand flexing. Dean thought, where are Mulder and Scully when you need them? Diana seemed to be thinking the same thing as she glanced at him. The thing moved closer to her, so Dean scrambled to the trunk to arm himself. 

“Here!” He thrust a sawed off shotgun in her hands, a box of silver bullets already being packed into his own barrel. He shot it the head, then the torso, nothing hitting. Diana tried too, aiming instead for its arms and bottom, but they bounced off. “Fuck!” 

She pulled something from underneath a box of fake ids and all but threw it at him before launching herself at the monster. “Come and get me you fucker!” She screamed, knife bouncing off the bottle metal piped as she stabbed it. A metal arm peeled her off, bringing it closer to the face for the eyes to take her in. The whirring sound came back, high pitched and grating nails on a chalkboard, then stopped. It’s trying to catalogue its surroundings, he thought. It seemed done with Diana though, depositing her to its left onto a bunch of shrubbery. More dropped from thirteen feet up, but it didn’t seem to care. It instead turned its gaze towards Dean.

“Diana!” He screamed, gut wrenching and broken when he realized she wasn’t moving. His view was quickly blocked by the monster anyways, and looked down to what was in his hands. “Grenade launcher,” he breathed, propping up one end on his shoulder, aiming at the head of the beast. “Haste le vista, baby.” He pulled the trigger, grenade flying in the air and hitting it square between its eye ports. It rattled it for a moment, the explosion loud, sparks flying everywhere. But it seemed to adjust after a moment, the light from its eyes turning a crimson red. And I just made it angry. Crap. 

Dean shuffled back from the impala, trying to lead the monster away from his car in hopes it wouldn’t crush it. It advanced towards him, arms reaching forward as it bowed downwards, ready to scoop him up. It was only a foot away when it jerked violently backwards, its head turning around, Diana clinging to the handle near the point of the spade hood, her foot on the edge of what looked like an open control panel. It’s head kept spinning around and around, Diana desperately holding on for dear life, but was flung off towards Dean despite her best efforts. 

“I’ll distract it!” She gasped out, trying to stand. “Shoot a grenade at the open port in the back!” He ran to her, helping her up and propping her against the nearest tree. “Hey! Ugly!” She hollered.

The machine monster turned towards her, arms going for her torso, as Dean ran back to the Impala. His hands slipped on the grenade, hands sweat slicked. He loaded it just in time to see the thing holding Diana sixteen feet in the air at eye level with both hands, shaking her like a rag doll as it clicked and whirred. He scrambled towards the back. Grabbing purchase on a boulder near the start of the foot path they had just come from, he aimed. Please work. He hit the trigger and the grenade soared into an arc and hit the inside of the open panel dead on. 

The smell that had omitted from the bottom of the pipes was awful, but the smell that filled the air was even worse. He turned to the side to once again vomit, covering his nose and mouth with his shirt sleeve as tears fell from his eyes. 

The thing dropped Diana with a thud, the front part of its face blowing forward and landing in millions of pieces over the car, the trees, and Diana. With a big crashing thud, the thrusters stopped and it fell solidly in an upright position on the ground. The forest fell quiet for almost a whole minute before the spade hood fell backwards. Dean scrambled backwards on the boulder to get away, managing to miss it by just a few inches as it hit the earth. He turned yet again to the side to vomit, now just bile. What the actual fuck is going on. 

He ripped his shirt off, the t-shirt underneath sticking to his skin with sweat. “Diana!” He yelled, throat sore and lungs screaming for air. 

Before him stood the once mighty thing, the stock pot torso cracked open and a piece of it peeling away. There was a stray piece of steel rebar sticking straight up where the head used to be, probably acting as some type of neck. He was equal parts mesmerized and horrified. But he’d have to sort through that later. He grabbed the nearest fallen branch for support and hurried around to the front to look for Diana. 

He found her in a bush, arms shielding her face and covered in red welts, but breathing and alive. “Oh God Diana!” He pulled at her arms to look at her face. 

She was horror stricken, tears in her eyes and shaking. She looked through him, not at him, eyes glassy and unfoccused. “How many men did we lose?” She asked, barely a whisper. 

“What?”

“I said how many men corporal!” Dean drew back his head in confusion. “Where are the children? How many did we lose? Answer me! The school! The school is the next target! We have to get there. We have to-“ she cut herself off, gut wrenching sobs ripped from her chest against her own will. 

He instantly realized, she thinks she’s still in the war. He bent down and scooped her up out of the bush. She shook against him, fists landing on any part of his body she could reach to try and get him to drop her. He made it as far as the back rims on the car before laying her on the ground. She made a move to crawl under it before realizing where she was. “I’m-“ She breathed, looking at his face. “It’s not- you… we’re okay. We’re alive.”

He nodded slowly, a single hand reaching out to her in comfort. She looked like she was about to put back on her hard exterior, but couldn’t, sobbing once again instead. He pulled her into an awkward hug, rocking her back and forth and shushing her in comfort. They stayed that way for almost a full twenty minutes before her breathing came back evenly and she pulled away. 

Without saying anything, she moved to look at the pipes on the bottom of the thing. Using the stick Dean has grabbed as a cane, she hobbled over to the back and hit something with her fist. A whooshing noise sounded, a small metal ramp unfurling in front of them. They shared a look and Dean moved forward to climb up the ramp inside. He took one look inside, turned his head in disgust and walked back down. “We should salt and burn it.” He said without explanation. Diana only nodded and hobbled back to the footpath. “Where are you going?”

“To get our shit.” She croaked. “Don’t want the cops tying us to the scene.”

“I’ll do it. You just got flung around by a giant fucking robot monster thing.”

“Frametown Monster.”

“What?”

“Frametown Monster. Or the Flatwoods Monster if you want specifics. It’s alien, isn’t it?” She leaned on the stick more heavily, clutching her side in pain. 

Dean paused, unsure of whether to tell her what he saw or not. “It’s dead now, whatever it was. Let me help you to the car and I’ll deal with this, okay?” 

Too tired to protest, Diana went along with him, groaning as her butt hit the leather of the bench seat. He rushed putting out the fire at the beach, and grabbing their stuff, accidentally breaking one of the bottles onto the rocks. He couldn’t be bothered with that one thing though, so he just covered the shards with another rock and hoped no one snooping around would notice. Once he got back with the cooler and chairs, the thing was already on fire. He saw Diana leaning against the door of the backseat, eyes glazed over in shock. 

When she turned towards him she simply said “I saw inside,” and went back to sit in the passenger’s seat, completely numb. 

The ride back to town was strained and quiet. Dean insisted she go to the hospital to get checked out and ultimately won when the side of her face began to swell. By the time they got into the parking lot, she had started laughing. 

“What?” He turned to her, concerned. 

She huffed another softer laugh. “ ‘Lets move to Virginia!’ She said. ‘There are no monsters in Vienna’ she said. ‘It’ll be nice and quite’ she said. Holy FUCK Susan!” She laughed harder, clutching her side as she wheezed. “We just- do you realize that we just took on the elusive Flatwoods Monster? We just Mulder and Scullied that BITCH! Holy FUCK!” She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of Dean’s discarded shirt. “That was by and far the most epic bachelorette party I have ever been to, nay - ever heard of! Damn. You sure know how to throw a party, Winchester.”

Dean opened the door, looking back into the cab for a second. “I don’t think this is a bar we should ever try to reach again. And maybe, let’s not tell anyone about it right away?” 

“Deal.”

Apparently, their local hospital was used to seeing the Wilsons come in for all sorts of random injuries, so they got very little in the form of probing questions when Diana explained the awful smell and injuries as her falling while rock climbing into a marsh. They didn’t even bother to ask why her clothes were dry or about the brambles in her hair either. Luckily, save for a broken finger, her only other injury was a broken rib and a lot of bruising. Diana argued with the doctor for several minutes before agreeing that she should stay the night for observation and be let out for her wedding provided she come regularly for follow ups once a week. 

Thankfully the hospital had enough vacancies that Diana got a room with a comfortable sitting area for Dean to pass out in. Just as he was settling in, ready to pass out, he heard Diana whisper “best bachelorette party ever.” 

—————______———

The morning came far too quickly, and painfully too. Dean’s back and legs were stiff as he stretched himself up. Sitting upright, he found a blanket wrapped around him.

“Lauren thought you looked cold.” He looked up to see Diana awake and drinking water from a styrofoam cup, a food tray in front of her. The bruising was very prominent now, looking far worse in the daylight. “Lauren’s a great nurse. I was pretty scared she’d call Susan and Lynn and tell them I was admitted, but apparently Susan’s just waking up in the ER with an IV drip in her arm.” She smirked over the cup as she sipped. 

“What happened to Susan?” He stood, every joint in his body cracking as he stretched. The smell of eggs brought him next to her bed. 

Diana handed him a piece of bacon which he accepted and ate with gusto. “Alcohol poisoning, probably. Gotta say, as much as I miss drinking, I sure as shit don’t miss that.” 

They ate breakfast quickly before signing out. Lauren - Diana’s nurse - came by after discharge to give Diana a gentle hug and give Dean her phone number. He stared at the digits on his arm for far too long before pushing Diana’s wheelchair out of the elevator. “She’s coming to the wedding.” 

“What?” Dean looked down at her as they exited the hospital. 

“Lauren.” Diana tilted her head back to look at him upside down. “She’s newly single and she’s coming to the wedding. She knows we’re hunters too, not that we’ve let her ever come with us, but she knows about all the things that go bump in the night. Plus,” he flipped the brakes on as she hobbled out and into the car. “She’s pretty hot.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I thought you were getting married today.” 

“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with appreciating what’s in the menu so long as you don’t order off it!” She ran her hands through her hair. “Ugh. I need a shower. Should have asked Lauren to help me back at the hospital.”

“What happened to not ordering off the menu?” Dean slammed his door shut, turning the engine over. “I think a shower would be considered ordering.”

It was now Diana’s turn to roll her eyes. “It would be in a professional capacity not a sexual one. Geez. Why is it everyone thinks a WLW is like a horny straight dude?!”

“A What?”

“WLW. Woman who Likes Women.”

“Huh.” Dean paused, flicking his blinker on at the lights as they were pulling from the parking lot. “Wouldn’t it be WWLW then?”

“Uh! I don’t make up the damn acronyms, Dean!” They bantered all the way back to the house, but it was playful and soft. When they pulled up, Jody’s truck was parked to the side of the garage. Claire and Alex milled around outside alternating throwing Brutus and Artemis’s toys for them to fetch. Brutus stopped mid run when the Impala’s door opened and he bound his entire self right into Diana’s knees as soon as she stood. 

“Woah!” Diana grabbed onto the door frame for support as all two hundred and fifteen pounds of dog put his paws on her shoulders, lapping her entire face in dog drool. “Baby, get down!” 

“Brutus!” Dean called. The dog let up with his kisses to stare at the man. “Come here!” He lapped once more at Diana’s face before hopping down and bounding to give Dean the same treatment. “Ugh! Ew, Brutus! Stop it! I immediately regret this decision!” 

“Oh man!” He could hear Claire and Alex laughing and someone’s cell phone clicking as photos were most definitely being snapped. 

After being thoroughly patted on the face and neck, the giant bear of a dog hopped down and ran back to grab his toy. He stared at the girls trying to put on a disappointed face but failed when he saw Jody opening the front door. 

“Jodyyyy!” Diana whined. “I’m gonna need your help!” 

Jody merely rolled her eyes before heading down the steps to meet them. 

“What’s up, old man?” Claire joked as she hurled another toy Brutus’ way. 

Dean scowled at them, not really having it in him to argue. “Same old.” He shrugged, standing between the two. “Hey.” 

Alex leaned to give him a hug, but Claire out right ignored him, climbing the steps to see what needed to be done. Anything to get away from Dean. Alex started to apologise, but Dean shook his head in understanding, instead asking her how the drive was. She smiled tightly and exclaimed that Claire’s inability to sit still would end up resulting in her getting her legs broken if she didn’t get her attitude check. 

Susan came home with Lynn, eyes red and sunken in, bursting their little chat bubble and shooing Dean to maneuver the cars in the front so more guests had somewhere to park. Sam quickly joined him and the entire property was a buzz instantly. 

Seeing Claire was a reminder he didn’t really need, but he was still glad to see her. When Castiel has died, Sam offered to be the one to call Claire, but Dean ultimately made the choice to drive out and tell her in person instead. It was awful. She’d decked him straight in the nose, breaking it, fists raining down on him until Jody pulled the sobbing girl off. He hadn’t seen her since then, and was more than expecting the cold shoulder, if not all out violence from her. But it was nearing the second anniversary of his death, and Claire seemed to be coping better. She even smiled at him when he’d gone through the front door. 

Alex had her hair in a braid suspiciously similar to Susan’s, though Dean shouldn’t have been surprised at that development. Alex had just finished nursing school and was looking for a mentor. She launched into a story about one of her fellow classmates making a huge stink at their graduation while Diana started getting ready. It was comfortable, not only in the armchair Dean was currently sinking into in Diana and Lynn’s bedroom, but also the ease of conversation. 

“What the hell happened to your face!?” Susan suddenly appeared behind Claire and Alex, her own face furious. Her eyes still sunken in where dark circles lay, the two espressos she pounded not enough to recover from her night of excessive drinking. 

“Hey, I could say the same for you! And leave Claire and Alex out of this - they did a pretty damn good job with my makeup.” Diana crossed her arms over her chest slowly, careful not to exacerbate her injury. 

“What the hell did you- YOU!” Susan pointed an accusatory finger at Dean. He straightened up in the armchair he was sitting in. “What the hell kind of bachelorette party did. You. Throw?!” She kicked the stray pillow on the floor away from her as she advanced on him. “My sister asks you to be her best man, and this is how you do things? Is this how a good man acts? Huh?! Is this how the BEST MAN ACTS?!” She grabbed him by the front of his dress shirt, tugging hard enough for him to stand in fear. “Don't you ever pull this kind of shit again or so help me, I will cut your nose and your dick off and switch their places. I can sew them back onto your body like that, so don’t test me son.” She gritted out, letting go of his shirt. “You’ll want to iron that.” 

They all watched her retreating back in shock. “Damn.” Alex exhaled. “That’s one tough chick.”

“Yeah.” Claire agreed. “Hey Dean, guess I’ll have to finish my hunter training with these two bad ass babes instead of you two.”

“No.” Diana and Dean replied, simultaneously. 

Diana reached up with her good hand to cup the side of Claire’s face. “Being a hunter sucks. That’s why I’m easing into retirement while I still can. Don’t go into it. Seriously girls, it’s a giant shit show. You want to hunt monsters? Take your pick at any video game store, or go into politics. Leave the things that go bump in the night for us.”

Claire rolled her eyes in response. “Seriously Claire.” Dean moved to grab the wedding dress from the bathroom. “You two have chances we never had. Take them with both hands while you can.”

Claire scoffed. “Both of our parents are dead, just like yours, and we’ve been thrust into this just like you guys have. Don’t tell me that we have chances that you didn’t. We don’t have as many as you think we do. And besides, it’s my life. If I want to live it hunting, then that’s my call.” She looked to Alex for backup, but the other girl just moved on to curl Diana’s hair silently. 

Grabbing at Claire’s hands, Diana pulled her closer to her face. “Listen to me here pipsqueak, I’m only going to tell you this once.”

“Ow! Diana, you’re hurting me.”

“Am I? Good. Dean and I almost died last night because of a fucking 14 foot tall machine that was powered by dead people. Yeah, that’s right, a fucking ghost Dalek came after us, except, there were still bodies inside, and not the bodies of humans. I’ve been through two wars, my mother was schizophrenic, and I had to be the one who pulled her plug when the illness drove her to jump off a building. Do you know what my first thought was when that thing dropped me to the ground from fourteen fucking feet into the air? Huh? I thought ‘what if this isn’t real? What if this is a hallucination and I’m starting to show signs of the illness? What if I die tonight? Would I get to see my mom again? And which one would I see? The one who tucked me and my sister into Ghostbuster sheets every night with her long brown hair in a braid and little flowers on her pajamas? Or would it be the frail shell of a woman who couldn’t even recognize her own kids and in a state of panic ripped her hair out in fistfuls to make a rope so she could climb to heaven? Are those my only options?’ That’s what I thought of, Claire, and that’s not even remotely okay.” She took a deep breathe before steadying herself, voice turning softer. “I wish I could bring your mother back, my own too, to how they used to be before all this cryptid shit went down, but I can’t. What I can do is make sure that no one else has to bear the brunt of the bullshit in this world of horror. It means that if you and Alex want to go into being beauty bloggers with a YouTube channel, I’ll buy you the camera. If you want to go to school for engineering, I’ll find you a scholarship. You want to take a year abroad? I have connections. I can make that happen for you. But this…?” She gestured to the house around her. “This is my job. My responsibility. Your job is to get educated and do something good that doesn’t involve you dying or being thrown several feet by a robot death machine. And you guys have something Susan and I never did - Jody. That woman loves you both like you’re her daughters, and she’d do anything for you. We didn’t get someone like that in our corner. We didn’t have this network of people - this group of total weirdos treating us like family. You two do. And it’s not ideal, and most of us are a little more than damaged, but we give a shit about you two, and we’ll be damned if you get hurt but something we could have protected you from. Got it?” 

Claire nodded, eyes trained on her shoes. “Yeah I got it.”

“Alex?” 

“Got it. “

“Great. You guys are still going to hunt behind my back, aren’t you?” Both girls nodded numbly, looking away from her. She sighed. “Look, if you’re going to ignore my advice, that’s up to you. But if you want to help, maybe catalog some of the Men Of Letters stuff. There are hundreds of books I need digitized too. It would help so many hunters to be able to access that stuff at the drop of a hat. Right, Dean?” He nodded enthusiastically, thinking how much he still hadn’t cataloged of the weapons and occult artifacts gathering dust in the storage room. “Great. Now let’s get me in that dress and married. Lynn might be a patient woman, but Susan sure as shit ain’t.” 

She moved to get up before Alex stopped her.“Your hair!” 

“Throw some flowers in the places that look crappy. Viola! Boho-chic or whatever the internet calls it.”

Claire rolled her eyes, pulling silk flowers from the dresser. Under her breath, she mumbled, “Beauty blogger. Yeah, right.”

The walk down the stairs was difficult for Diana, her leg stiff on the steps. Dean ended up just hauling her down with help from Donna, a hand under each armpit, practically dangling as she hit every step. The look of fury on her face was loud, but she kept her mouth shut. She couldn’t do this alone anyways. 

Dean walked down the aisle to stand off to the right of the pergola where the officiant stood. He looked out to see Sam and Eileen giving him a thumbs up from the front row. Next to them sat Jody and Donna who seemed to be in a very heated yet quiet discussion that no one else seemed to pay any attention too. He felt suddenly nauseous and couldn’t understand why. I’m not the one getting married! He tried to reason with himself. I’m just the best man! And I have the ring, I checked twice. Awe man! What’s going on with me? Maybe I hit my head after all. And his commentary stopped as soon as he caught Lauren waving at him from further back in the fourth and final row on the other side. He subtly waved back, causing her to blush. She’s hot. Maybe I should just take her on a date. 

His thoughts were cut short when Diana joined him up at the front, small veil covering her face and still a bit unstable on her feet. “Did I waddle like a newborn deer?” She stage whispered. 

“Nope. Just like a regular deer” he responded, earning him a snort. 

Seconds later, Susan was walking down the aisle, followed by Lynn, gown touching the floor behind her, flowing like a waterfall. She looked like a queen moving down the aisle, the flower crown on her head could might as well have been gold. He looked over at Diana to see her openly staring at Lynn with the look of sheer unfiltered love. 

The officiant was dressed plainly, her hands poised in front of her, ready to sign. “Lynnette Doyle and Dionysis Glorheldia Wilson-” 

Muffled laughter ensued from various patrons but immediately stopped once both Susan and Diana gave them all death glares. 

“- the two of you pledge your love and your fealty to one another today, in front of the people in your life that you love, for now until the end of time. Marriage is a contract between two people in love, two people who commit themselves to being with one another through all of life’s joys and hardships. To be married is to make a promise to one another that you will always be there, to always be honest and open with one another, and to grow together as people. Do you make this promise to one another?”

“I do,” Lynn said, signing along as the officiant had. 

“I do,” Diana repeated. 

“Now the couple has written their own vows and would like to share them with us at this time.”

Lynn brought her hands up and began to sign as she spoke. “Since the day I had met you Diana, I knew that you were strong. You reminded me that love is something you do not need to earn, for you give it so freely. I am blessed to have you in my life, and I cannot wait to spend the rest of it together with you.” 

“Lynn,” Diana paused as she took a deep breath. “You have always been a surprise to me, and I wouldn't have you any other way. You have made me want to be a better person, and you are far more than I could have ever wanted in a life partner. I feel honoured to grow old with you.” 

The officiant took the attention of the crowd once more as she asked them to repeat after her. 

“Diana”, Lynn said, smile breaking over her face. “I give you my heart, I give you my soul. I will share with you my home, my love and my joy. I will share with you my heartache, my success and my life. Today, I am honoured to call you my wife.” Susan passed her Diana's ring and as Lynn slipped it on her finger, Dean saw Susan wipe away a stray tear. 

“Lynn,” Diana stood facing Lynn, hands signing deftly as she spoke. “I give you my heart, I give you my soul. I will share with you my home, my love and my joy. I will share with you my heartache, my success and my life. Today, I am honoured to call you my wife.” As she clasped her hands together, Dean felt misty eyed. He passed her the ring and she quietly slipped it on Lynn’s finger, thumb gently rubbing over it before drawing away. 

“I now would like to welcome for the first time - Lynn and Diana Wilson. You are officially married. You may kiss your bride.” 

Hoots and hollers were heard throughout the guests and as Diana took Lynn’s face in her hands to kiss, Dean noticed one of Lynn’s palms up behind her, Susan slapping it quickly with a soft “hell yeah” before clapping along herself. Both brides turned to face the crowd with clasped hands outstretched above their heads and the clapping only grew louder. 

During dinner, Dean and Sam had the opportunity to meet most of the Wilson’s friends and neighbors. The majority of hunters at the wedding the Winchesters had met in passing before, but there were a few fresher faces in the crowd that welcomed them eagerly. Sam of course was paying little attention to them as Eileen took up most of his time next to him. She was moving around with more ease, but that didn’t stop Sam from doting on here very second he could spare. 

He listened to the story of how Jesse met Diana and Lynn hunting the same ghost as he and Cesar were. The spirit was strong, possessing a 240 pound, 6”6’ y’all drag queen who kicked Jessie into the gay bar’s glass liquor shelving. Diana had managed to expel it from the drag queen, the three of them laying on the floor panting as Lynn and Cesar burn the bones. It was Jesse who ultimately helped Diana get her head out of her ass to ask Lynn out, and they’d kept in contact ever since. 

He was having a great time with everyone, even with the McGinty’s, who happened to own the bakery in town. 

Dean turned to say something inappropriate to Jody in response but lost his train of thought when he noticed the woman standing awkwardly by the soda dispenser. She was very plainly and modestly dressed, an air of Amish influence of her clothing. The dress ended at her sock covered ankles and her purple Nike running shoes were a huge contrast to the faded grey dress. Her hair was pulled back, the black locks and sharp nose very familiar. She had her hands clasped in front of her, rigid, the rest of her body swaying minutely forwards and back in nervousness, mouth twitching in the corner of her frown. He waved an apology to Jody and Alex, putting his glass on the table and walked cautiously to her. 

Up close, she looked younger than he expected, probably closer to Claire and Alex’s age than Lynn’s, her worry lines on her forehead not yet pronounced. But without a doubt, this was Lynn’s family. “Hey. I’m Dean. Haven’t had a chance to meet you yet.” He extended his hand to her to shake, but her hands only clasped together tighter. “I uh…” he cleared his throat. “I guess you’re not a big handshake kinda girl, huh?”

“I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come.”

“You’re related to Lynn.” It wasn’t a question.

“Her names not- she changed it.” Her sigh had a painful edge to it. “Yes, I am. But she doesn’t want to see me. She won’t want to have me here. I’m just going to ruin it.”

“Naw, I don’t think-“

“It’s my fault.” Dean looked at her, shocked. “My fault she strayed from her path. She doesn’t deserve- it’s my fault.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. “And what path is that?”

“The path of God. The path of good. She’s not-“ 

“Hold on one minute-“ Dean’s brain raged a fire. “Lynn is good. She’s a therapist and she helps a lot of people. She’s helped me personally with a lot of… stuff. With grief. And my brother too. And the Wilsons are great people. Diana and Susan have saved our asses more than I want to admit. And another thing: God honestly doesn’t care about sexual orientation. Dude dated women and men.”

“You’ve misunderstood me. I- I’m sorry. Did you just say ‘God dated women and men?’ Are you insinuating that God…”

“Yeah.”

“Why? Why would he date his own creation? That is utterly absurd!”

“Wow. Good to know that’s what you’re focusing on.”

“Look. I have no problem with my sister dating or marrying a woman. From her letters, Diana seems to make her very happy.” Letters? I never knew she was still keeping in touch with her family. With her sister. “I’m afraid of what hap-“ she closed her eyes, lips in a thin line of fear. “What happened to Louisa. That possession… it destroyed her. It destroyed so much. And to think my sister fights things like that every day.” Her eyes opened, tears welling up. “I can’t- there’s not a day that passes that I wish she were back home with us, all of us making food for the kids-“ you still look like a kid yourself. “- going to the market for fabric and food together, singing in the church choir; that was our life. And I got through all of it because of her. And now I… I think I’m lost in my way. I’ve been lost after S- Lynn left home. But I don’t want to go back to the way it was, I just want the good times. But there’s no mending it now.”

Susan walked by, tapping Dean on the shoulder as she did, backing back up when she recognized Lynn’s sister. “Faith? What- what are you doing here? How did you get here? How did you leave the cult?”

Faith grimaced. “It was hardly a cult. And I had some help. There’s an organization that helps child brides and sister-wives in our state - my state - integrate back into society. I’ve been staying with a group of nice women in a house for a few months now. One of them lent me the broach.” She turned her head just enough to show then the sparkly and brightly coloured ladybug hair broach she had pinned to the side of her large hair bun. “I’m - sister wrote to me that she was going to propose and she was to be married. I didn’t know what to write, what to say…” She wrung at her hands. Dean noticed how she had picked at the skin along her short, bitten fingernails, a long scar on the back of one hand like a branding rod fell in it when she was young. 

Susan sighed and put her arm around Faith’s shoulders, shocking both Faith and Dean. “Listen. You were thirteen. You were in so deep they had you thinking your own sister was trying to what, sabotage your marriage to a sexual predator. You’re finally in a good place; you’re getting help. You’re moving forward. She’s not going to fault you for that.” As if by magic, Lynn came up to the table, cup in hand. She nodded at Dean, but froze, her eyes landing on Faith. “Lynn,” Susan’s voice soft, trying to keep the deer from fleeing. “Faith came all this way to see you. She’s doing better,” she added. “She got out of the compound, got help with an organization for women who free cults and child marriages, and she’s integrating herself back into society. She has something to tell you. Faith?” She turned her gaze to the shorter, younger woman. “You wanna tell her?” 

Faith gasped in air, unaware she’d been holding her own breath. Through shaky breaths, she muttered, “I’m sorry. I was young and so stuck in the ways we grew up in. I couldn’t - it was so hard to- but I wanted to come here. I wanted - needed to - I don’t know.” She hung her head low. “I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me, like our family was ashamed of you. But they were wrong - you’ve-“ she looked up, tears running through her foundation, making lines of beige run down her cheeks. “You’ve made a life here. You have a house, and a barn, and a car, and a big piece of land you could farm on, and, and, and,” her throat clicked. “And a family. A real one. One that loves you for you. Not because they feel they have to.” Dean wondered what could have happened on that compound to make this young woman so fearful to love another person. “And I was angry at first, because you left me for another family - other sisters - but you offered to take me. I pushed you away. I thought God would bring you back one day, but I realized God wasn’t going to do that. I had to leave to see that the sign God sent me was the absence of you. The postcards you sent me, the letters, the packages - I hid them from mother and father. I kept as many as I could. I-“ she thrust her hand into her pocket, and a small leather bound notebook, no bigger than Lynn’s own, lay in her hand.

She opened it to show the letters she kept there. She flipped to a page with two photographs. On the left side was a picture of a group of girls, about six or seven, all wearing plain dresses much like Faith’s, all in different faded dark wash colours standing together in a field. They had collars up to their chins, and all were smiling. The girl in the middle was holding a smaller girl on the edge of her hip, binkie half in her mouth. The girls in the middle had to be Lynn holding Faith, both clutching each other, tiny fists clenching fabric. On the right was a picture taken a few years ago. Lynn must have mailed it to her, the picture bent down the middle. Lynn, Diana, and Susan inside the back of their truck, leaning in for a selfie. Lynn was thinner, her hair longer, smile threatening to break her face. Diana’s face was serious, a hint of a smile curling around the edges, the same face she pulled right before she told a joke. Susan held the camera, her face smiling as widely as Lynn’s, looking healthy and happy. The sun cast stray rays of light around Diana’s hair, illuminating the bleach blonde like a halo. The photo had been dog eared and twisted a few times, the colour faded on the edges. It seemed to be Faith’s favourite from the amount of use it got.

Lynn took the book from her sister’s grasp, gently cradling the book between her hands. “I remember this day.” She whispered. They barely heard her over the noise of the guests. She moved closer. Faith flinched but Susan held her fast. “Diana suggested we drive to the Grand Canyon. It was raining the whole drive. Susan was so angry,” the smile was fond. “She kept insisting we stop for curly fries every couple hundred miles. It was irritating. The entire cab smelt like farts and potatoes for three days, but we got there. There weren’t any motels left so she slept in the car. We kept kicking ourselves for not taking the trailer with us.” Susan and Lynn chuckled. “But when we parked the truck, the rain stopped. We slept huddled together in our sleeping bags, freezing under the stars. When we woke up, Diana…” she started to laugh, hand to her chest. “Diana was upside down in her own sleeping bag! It was… oh gosh! It was so funny to fall asleep with a head of blonde spikes and to wake up eight hours later to fuzzy socks in your face!”

“They smelt so bad!” 

“We ripped them off her and threw them into the canyon!”

“I’ve never run from the cops and Diana in my life.”

“She was faster than the provincial park police - and she was barefoot! We got back to the truck and hightailed it out of there. Diana found a taco place not far from there, and we hid out in the truck behind it. That’s when you took the picture. I love this picture.” She looked up at Faith. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said in a small voice. “I missed you.” With that, she all but launched at her, enveloping her in an awkward hug, one arm caught between Faith and Susan’s sides. “I’m so glad you came.”

“It’s all my fault, I should have-“

“Shh… it’s okay. We don’t have to worry about that now. We’re okay right now.” She pulled away to look at Faith. “Let’s get some food in you, okay? You still like roasted chilli spiced potato wedges, right?”

Faith laughed through her tears. “Yeah. You made some?”

“Just like meema’s”

Dean stood by Susan as the two sisters left to grab food. Dean turned to say something to the tallest Wilson, but before he could, she leaned over the nearest garbage can and hurled. “Woah! You okay?”

She dry heaved over it a few moments before righting herself. Dean grabbed the nearest cup and poured her some juice, pressing it into her palm. “Jesus. I’m still queasy, but I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

“How much did you even drink last night?” 

Susan only looked up at him with an eyebrow raised and a mischievous glint in her eye, mouth raised in a corner, a suggestion of a smile starting. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

The speakers filled with the sweet sound of folk guitar. A few of the hunters laughed, Sam included. Dean turned to ask what was going on, when Susan motioned everyone to sit. Diana swept onto the dance floor, sneaker squeaking on the peel and stick tiles. Lynn laughed openly seeing Diana lipsync poorly. 

“It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside  
I'm not one of those who can easily hide, I  
Don't have much money but boy, if I did  
I'd buy a big house where we both could live”

Diana motioned with her arms, gesturing to the house and the barn. Lynn played coy, swaying over slowly to Diana, smile never leaving her face. The cover of the song was slower, sung by a woman, and was heavier on strings than the original on piano. Lynn started to softly sing along as her new wife took her hands. 

“If I was a sculptor but then again, no  
Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show  
Oh, I know it's not much but it's the best I can do  
My gift is my song  
And this one's for you.”

“It’s their song,” Sam leaned over his shoulder to whisper to the back of his head. “It was playing on their first date. And their second, and their third. It was always the first song when they turned the radio in the truck on their dates. It’s so cute.” Dean chuckled softly. They really were two fools head over heels in love. They deserve it more than anyone. “They also had their first time to this song.” That had Dean snorting with laughter so loud it caused Donna to slap him backhanded on the arm. 

“And you can tell everybody this is your song  
It may be quite simple but now that it's done”

Dean was getting misty eyed watching the two women hold each other as they swept along the dance floor together. The sheer happiness on their faces unclouded from fear of the hunt or the occasional reminder of awful times. 

“I hope you don't mind  
I hope you don't mind  
That I put down in words  
How wonderful life is while you're in the world”

He felt eyes on him as he wiped away his tears. Across the barn, Faith stood with her hand over her heart. She was staring at Lynn and Diana with something Dean hadn’t felt in years - awe. Yeah kid, he mused, those two will do that to ya. 

When the song finished, Lynn tried dipping Diana, cautious with her wife’s injuries. The entire barn whooped out in laughter. Dean cupped his hands around his mouth to yell back. 

The music turned into something faster, then slower, then faster again. People started dancing in pairs, alone, it didn’t matter. Diana and Lynn shared a dance with as many as they could before Lynn went to sit with Faith. Diana looked around and found the Winchesters, hobbling over quickly to their table. 

“Hey Sam!” Diana reached up as Sam leaned down to embrace her.

“Congratulations!” 

“Thanks! Hey why don’t you ask Eileen to dance?”

Sam blushed scarlet. “Oh, I- I’m not very good- And she’s still healing- I-”

“Here, look. Just copy me okay? Would you like” Diana started signing. “Come on Sam!”

He shook his head. “Okay, okay!”

“Would you like?”

“Would you like…”

“To dance with me?”

“To dance- like this? - with me?”

“Yeah. just like that! Now go, she’s right over there.”

He nodded, resolute. He started to march over to where Eileen and Susan were talking, deciding to turn back, only to have Dean shove him the rest of the way there. 

Diana smirked at him before excusing herself to go to the bathroom, demanding a dance with him when she’d be back. He sat down heavily at the table, his back straining at the contact with the chair.

“You doing okay, Dean?” He looked at Jesse, shrugging. “You’re still not over it, huh?” 

“Over what?”

“It’s not the worst thing in the world to fall in love, even if you’re a hunter.” He let his glass thus heavily on the table as he let go. He moved his chair closer to Dean, looking around to make sure no one could hear them. “I know you loved him. And now he’s gone. But it’s not your fault. And you’re allowed to love again.” He put a hand on his shoulder. “I won’t tell anyone about this, but you don’t have to hide from me.” 

Dean nodded along, heart in his throat. He felt himself pulling Jesse into a hug despite not knowing why. He didn’t want to admit it out loud, but he didn’t need to with Jesse. When he pulled back, the other man did a zipper motion with his mouth and smiled. They laughed awkwardly for a moment before Donna stride closer and demanded someone dance with her. 

Dean felt lighter the rest of the night, letting himself enjoy the evening, only realizing as he crashed into his bed late into the night that he hadn’t had a single drink for three straight days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m considering editing the first two chapters if I get enough feedback. Please be constructive in your comments because I need to grow as a writer. Cheers.


	5. New Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a bit of a scare last month at the ER but I'm doing better, and rushed to finish this chapter because I felt like I've almost abandoned this fic. But it's up, and it's over 20 pages long on Google Docs, so enjoy! 
> 
> Also: BABY! No, not that baby, ACTUAL BABY!  
> (no, this one isn't Dean's. Not this time)
> 
> *****Steven Universe Spoilers from Jail Break and Full Disclosure ********

“And then I’d usually just drink until the day’s over or I’d find someone at the local bar and just… hook up.” Dean sighed, headphones on his ears, trying to look anywhere but the screen. 

“Well,” Lynn started, on the screen at her office back in Virginia, her own headphones on as she stared at the screen. “The holiday itself is made solely for commercial reasons, and the thing with holidays is, as an adult, you get to make or break your  _ own  _ traditions. I have a few suggestions if you’d like.” Dean nodded and Lynn smiled, opening up her notebook. “Some people gather with their friends and celebrate ‘friendship day’ instead, usually with a dinner and no obligation for gifts. Some of my colleagues go over to the city and volunteer at the homeless shelter. There’s also always the choice of self love - just spend the day doing little nice things for yourself, without drinking of course. There’s binge watching a new television show, or marathoning a movie series, as well as learning something new. One of my patients spent their last Valentine’s Day with some friends at a cooking class, learning how to roll flowers out of chocolate. Maybe look online and come up with three that you like and we can talk about how much or how little you liked them on your trial run this weekend.”

Dean grimaced. It was super weird picturing himself in  _ any  _ class. “I dunno… sounds weird.”

Lynn smiled, trying hard to hide her laughter. “So is hunting monsters, but you’re good at that too, so I doubt writing a list will be any harder.”

“Gee. Thanks.” He deadpanned. At this, she did laugh. “I just…” he rubbed his hand over his face. “I just don’t know, Lynn. This whole idea of- of writing a list like a little kid asking Santa for things he’ll never get - it doesn’t sound like it’ll lead anywhere good.”

Lynn frowned. She took her time to think of what to say, unnerving him. It’s what she did - with her patients at least - sit there and say nothing, waiting until the other person spills their guts to fill the silence. But Dean wouldn’t. He’d been doing this for months, so he got the routine down pat. “What does a human need to survive?”

Dean’s head drew back in surprise. Of all the things she could have said, this was perhaps the weirdest. “What?”

“What does a human need to survive?”

Dean let his eyes wander around the room, falling on the half eaten sandwich and glass of water on the nightstand. “Food. Water. Sleep.”

“And?”

“...sex? I don’t know Lynn.”

She leaned in, her chair creaking. “You’ve heard of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, right?” He nodded. “So, What are you forgetting?”

He was tempted to Google it. His phone was on his side, and if he was careful enough, he could search it without her noticing. But the whole point of these sessions was to get better - a concept he was still laughing at because getting better? Winchester’s didn’t do that. He had to try though. Even though he’d rather spiral, die in a title fight with the next big bad, he knew he couldn’t do that to Sammy. They needed each other, that would never change. “Um… breathing, bathroom… stuff. Uh, hygiene, friendship, family… am I getting this right?”

“Yes. But you’re focusing on everything but the top two tiers: esteem and self-actualization.”

The gears in Dean’s brain started churning, something he learnt from high school clicking into place. “Oh! Like self-esteem and morality.”

“Exactly. You’ve spent your whole life forgetting those. I’m going to be the one to remind you about them, but I can’t do the work- that’s all you.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, alright. Whatever. I’ll do it.”

“It’s not whatever, Dean.” She shook her head. She opened her mouth, then paused, deciding against it. “Have you ever held a baby?”

“Huh?”

“A baby. A tiny newborn human. Have you ever held one?”

He thought back on holding Sam when he was a child, of Lisa’s niece and the shifter baby. He thought of the kid they found abandoned in an alleyway after Abbadon, and about Amara. He couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of her. It wasn’t right. So he went back and focused on the alley baby, small, barely a week old, shivering and crying in an old milk crate. “Yeah. Few times.”

“Okay. Picture the baby in your arms right now.” She moved out of view for a second, coming back to take her headphones off and disappearing again. She came back not a second later with a couch cushion. “Here. This is the baby. Grab a baby, Dean.”

“Um, no.”

“Dean…” she warned. 

He grabbed a pillow from behind him and cradled it much like he did a baby. “You know, I think Diana’s rubbing off on you too much.”

“Who says it’s her rubbing off on me?” 

Rolling his eyes, he muttered, “this is stupid,” only for him to quickly apologize at the raised eyebrows she’d given. “Okay, it’s a baby. Bigger than yours and not blue.”

She rolled her own eyes this time. “So there’s your baby. It’s cute, and wiggly and small, and it needs things to survive- to thrive. Water, food, safety, healthcare, love - and later in life, they’ll need an education, and access to services like libraries and a job. Picturing it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, now picture it taken from you.”

“What?”

She nodded. “Someone has taken your baby away. Not killed it, but taken it without your permission. What do you do?”

Fury behind his eyes, he replied, “kill them.”

“But what if you can’t? What if they take away your baby, and you get your baby back eighteen years later, and you never find out who took them in the first place?”

He was stumped. Not knowing his own kid… that brought up some awful memories of leaving Ben and Lisa. But he swallowed the bile rising in his throat and pushed that down. “I- I don’t know. I’d still hunt the earth for them. But if they were dead? I don’t know.”

Lynn put down her cushion. “With the child, Dean. What would you do with your child?"

“I’d make up for lost time.” The room was silent. Lynn said nothing, doing that eye thing she did that said  _ I’m waiting for you to figure out what you just said so that you’ll come up with the realization without saying a thing, _ and he did. “Oh. I’m the baby.”

“Yes.” Her smile was warm and small. He could see why Diana fell in love with her - it was hard not to. “You’re the baby who lost his childhood, and once you left the person who robbed it from you, you had the opportunity to make up for lost time. And you did, for a while, but not in a healthy way. It’s time to start that again.”

He nodded numbly. “What if I don’t know how?”

“That’s what the lists are for!” He groaned at her cheer. “Hey, no one said the lists themselves were fun, but they work. I’ve done this with thirty seven patients already, Dean, and it’s worked every single time.” She pulled a hair tie off her desk, starting to pull her hair into a messy ponytail. “How about this - treat it like a case. Treat it like you’re researching a haunting but you can’t salt and burn anything, there’s nothing left to. Not a hair, or a glove, or a house. You have to find different ways to get the ghost out, and the ghost is.. well, you. Or your unhealthy habits, as it were.”

He chewed on that a while. It made sense in a weird way. He hadn’t been taking care of himself, and it was showing now more than ever. If his unstable mental state was a ghost in this scenario, then so be it. “Yeah, okay. That’s easier, actually. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll have to remember that metaphor for the next hunter, huh?” 

They laughed together. “It  _ is _ pretty effective. The baby thing is… nice and all, but it’s just not…” he gestured with his hands in a strange manner. “I dunno.”

Lynn hummed. “I get it. It’s not relatable.”

“Relatable! That’s the word. Hey, thanks Lynn” 

“You’re welcome Dean. Is there anything else you need before I go?” 

He shook his head, ready to take his headphones off. “Nah, I’m great. I’m going to take a shower. I’ll see ya in the spring.” They signed out and he shut the laptop. All his stuff was already on his side of the shower room, he needn’t get anything as he padded out of his room. 

A giggle. An honest to goodness giggle could be heard from the kitchen as Dean made his way to the bathroom. He stopped mid-step and turned around when he heard it again. Curious, he moved closer to the kitchen to see what was going on. He peeked round the entryway to find Eileen sitting up on the counter with her legs open, Sam standing between them. The two were exchanging playful kisses and  _ giggled _ . Dean slowly backed away from the sight, trying not to break the mood as he went back towards the bathrooms. 

He was happy for them, really he was. He just wished they'd given him a heads up. Or maybe he felt jealous. He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about them dating and sneaking around the bunker when they thought he wasn't around, but talking to Lynn had really helped. They would meet on Skype once a week to discuss Dean and How He Felt™, which was such a foreign topic to him that for the first three sessions, all he talked about was Zeppelin. Lynn didn’t mind, telling him that she'd appreciated him teaching her enough about them to crush Susan at trivia, but he could tell that keeping this up was far more work than it was worth. 

Lynn had this way of getting him to say things he hadn't told anyone. He told her about Ben and how he was certain he was his son. He told her about how leaving Lisa had almost destroyed him and how Castiel dying actually had. He told her about the countless of times he tried to end his life when he bore the mark of Cain. She sat and listened to it all intently, never making him feel ashamed or alienated. She reminded him to list his accomplishments and went through a whole slew of exercises with him on how to cope. 

If you had told him years ago that one day he’s be sitting in his room, writing a list of good things about himself, he’d think you were off your rocker. But here Dean was, doing just that. He was only three things down when he heard his phone ding. He looked down to see a text from Susan 

‘Hey Dean. You @ the bunker?’

He quickly texted back, kind of surprised at such an abrupt text. ‘Yeah. What's up?’

‘Can u open up then? It's cold as balls out here  X( .’ His face crinkled in confusion. What the hell was she doing outside the bunker? They weren't expecting the Wilsons anytime soon. 

He got up anyways, making his way to the front, passing Sam and Eileen in the library who gave him strange looks, but saying nothing. As he opened the front door, there stood Susan, wrapped up in a coat with a knitted wool blanket over top, long braid sticking out from under a hat, a small roller suitcase in one gloved hand. And pregnant.  _ Very _ pregnant. 

“Can I come in or are you going to keep staring at me like that till I give birth?” She raised an eyebrow at him, teeth starting to chatter. 

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sorry, I just- when Eileen said you were pregnant I wasn't…. I can take your bag.” He said dumbly, moving aside to let her pass. 

“Yeah, well. I didn't exactly tell anyone until after Lynn and Diana’s wedding. Well, I told them when they got back from their honeymoon and they were… anyways. I need a couple days away from them if you're cool with me sleeping on your couch and- Eileen!” She stopped at the bottom of the stairs to be enveloped by her friend. She laughed as Eileen rocked her gently and she pulled away to sign as she spoke. “I didn't know you were here!”

Eileen signed something very rapidly to Susan, the only words Dean picked up were  _ Sam _ ,  _ the _ , and  _ bed _ . But Sam seemed to pick up enough that he blushed, hand rubbing at the back of his neck in embarrassment. She then signed more slowly so everyone could keep up. “Let me see you!”

Susan pulled off the blanket and undid her coat, revealing a cute hand knit sweater that was lopsided - more than likely Diana's failed attempt at a maternity sweater - and a very round belly. Eileen moved to put her hands on it, stopping to look at Susan for permission. Susan grabbed her hands and placed them low on the belly and Eileen's eyes widened. 

“She won't stop kicking.” Susan pulled off her scarf. “She's doing a damn samba on my bladder every day but… it's finally happening and I can't- I just can't be mad at the little stinker.”

“How far along are you?” Sam moved closer, his hand twitching before Susan grabbed it and put it on her belly next to Eileen’s. Sam let out a small gasp, eyes lighting up as a tiny kick met his hand. 

“Eight months.”

“Eight  _ months?! _ ” Susan spun her head to look at Dean. “That means you were pregnant at the wedding! That's- thats why you weren't drinking. That's why you were so stressed all the time.” He gasped. “You weren’t hungover! You were having morning sickness!” 

Susan’s laugh was barking. “No, the stress was all for the wedding. Trying to get a bunch of hunters in one place, dressed and behaving nicely is a  _ nightmare _ . But my dumb ass insisted that if Lynn and Diana were legally able to marry,  _ finally _ , that they'd make a big fuss out of it.” She shook her head. “I still have nightmares about that damn seating chart.” 

They all chuckle at that, the four of them moving to the table in the library to sit and talk more relaxed. There hadn't been any pressing hunts for a while and Dean liked this. He liked being able to sit with his family and talk about mundane things like trying to share a house with two newlyweds, or how trying to lace a shoe becomes an entire event when Diana tries to help. 

It's a familiarity that's different, their conversations that day. It's hard for him to put his finger on it, but maybe it's because for a while now, Dean had seen the Wilsons as an extension of his own little family with him and Sam. Their mother was nowhere to be found, much like their father had disappeared on them over fourteen years ago, she too had fled them. But his pain at his mother leaving him willingly felt less weight in his heart as sitting in the library now, Eileen spinning the story of how she and the Wilsons ended a hit in New Orleans drunk, and with matching tattoos. 

“Wait - you  _ all  _ have those shamrock tattoos?” Dean put his coffee down, unable to keep his excitement down at the prospect of them showing him such a ridiculous thing. 

“Yup.” Eileen signed. She took a breath before continuing. “We were hunting a shtriga just outside New Orleans, uh, Abita Springs I think? Just across Lake Pontchartrain. Anyways.” She paused to sip at her own coffee before continuing. “We’d never hunted this before, and Lynn was still a new enough hunter that she was a bit sloppy, but we finally wasted the thing, if not a little messily, and Diana suggested we go to New Orleans to celebrate. This was before she was sober, so of course we all get wasted.” 

Susan and Eileen laughed at the bittersweet memory, Susan taking over the story. “And Diana turned to Eileen and says, ‘I bet you I have more tats than you do.’”

Eileen laughed, signing back. “But her sign language was so bad she signed that she bet she had more  _ injections _ than I did.” Dean let out a roaring laugh, able to picture Diana fumbling her hands that poorly. 

“It was absolutely hilarious and we all said we'd get matching syringe tattoos to commemorate the night, but when we got to the tattoo shop, a bunch of sorority girls were leaving it with matching infinity signs and Lynn thought we should get those instead.”

Eileen nodded enthusiastically. “I told her I'd rather get a shitty shamrock than a cheesy infinity sign and well… now we each have a damn shamrock on our ankles.” Eileen pulled her foot onto the table, pulling her sock down to show it off. It wasn't large, but it was very green, and obviously hastily done. “At least it's not a stinking infinity sign or some Mandarin script that says ‘chicken’ instead of ‘peace’ like some people get.” 

They laughed, unwillingly drawing Jack in from his room. “Why is everyone laughing? I- oh!” He stopped short by the table, taking in Susan. “Oh. Hello.”

Susan, being Susan, simply stood up and moved towards him. “You must be Jack!”

“Wow!” He looked up at her towering frame. Sam grabbed the empty coffee cups and started heading for the kitchen. “Giant woman. Oh! You must be Susan! Sam and Eileen told me about you.” 

Susan laughed, grabbing Sam’s elbow to steer him closer towards her. She took a hand to hover over his head, then her own in a  _ you see the height difference here? _ motion, only four inches shorter than him. “What gave it away?”

Jack smiled at that. Sam shook his head as Susan let go, hurrying to the kitchen before anyone else decided to comment on his height. “You’re very funny. I like funny. I especially like cartoons. I’ve been watching some more recent ones, that’s where I got the giant woman reference.”

“Steven Universe.” He nodded. She reached into her pants pocket, fishing out her phone, and showing him the phone case. “I’m a nurse in the ER, but sometimes I go sit with the sick kids in the cancer ward, and we watch Steven Universe and Adventure Time. I like how easy going and relatable it is.” She unlocked the phone to show him something, but Dean couldn’t see. “That’s the baby quilt my sister Diana is starting to make.”

Jack’s soft gasp had Dean’s interest peak, motioning to Eileen to get up with him to investigate. Jack held the phone, pinching the screen to zoom in on each little part. Dean looked over his shoulder to see eight panels of fabric, each square a different pattern with cartoon characters on it. He had to say he was impressed with the amount of work Diana was putting into it, especially since she hated sewing. “This is wonderful Susan!” Jack couldn’t tear his eyes away. “I really love this pattern here with the donut shop employees.” He looked up then, looking to Eileen. “Do you think they’ll get together?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know Jack. They seem to be heading away from each other soon.” 

“Nooooooo!” He whined, earning a chuckle from everyone else. He turned to face Dean, still weary of the oldest Winchester. “These characters are the two teenagers who run this donut shop, and they always butt heads, but there was an episode where they were stranded on an island with Steven - he’s this boy here.” He pointed to a child on the quilt, a fro on his head and a red shirt with a star on the front, jumping in mid-air. “And there’s this whole thing where they actually start to talk and it’s very sweet, and then -  _ and then-  _ they kiss! So they have to be together!” His face fell a second, looking back at the phone. “Right?” 

Dean was speechless. They didn’t talk, Jack and him. It was all Sam, and now sometimes Eileen, but rarely Dean. He couldn’t look at the kid without anger and hurt in his chest. But Lynn was right. He couldn’t blame Jack for not bringing Castiel back to him.  _ Them _ . Mostly to him though. “Hey, the show hasn’t finished yet, right? So there’s always a chance. You never know, they might surprise you.”

Jack smirked. “I think if I had to be in a cartoon, I’d like to be in this one.” He gave Susan her phone back and pulled out his own. It wasn’t as new, or as good, but the kid loved saving pictures on it. He swiped a couple to show Dean, most of them with the Steven kid and his Indian friend. “The whole world is in shades of pastels, and the music is very calming. I especially love Amethyst’s joking nature. And Garnet’s really cool. I love how Ruby and Sapphire found one another and that’s how Steven found out they were a fusion!” 

“What?!” Sam appeared at the entryway to the library. Susan echoed his statement with a “I’m not there yet Jack! Spoilers!” 

Dean and Eileen extracted themselves from the three nerds to get some laundry done. They didn’t really talk much, enjoying the comforting silence together. That is until Eileen’s hands slipped and the entire bottle of detergent fell into the open washer. They both stood there in shock before a peal of laughter escaped her mouth. “Guess we’re going to have a bubble party, huh?” 

He laughed with her. “Guess so. It’s okay; it just means the floors will finally be clean.” 

They shook their heads at the same time, wondering how such a mundane mistake made them so happy.  **_Maybe cuz it means no one dies or gets hurt_ ** , his brain unhelpfully supplied. 

 

————————

 

Susan seemed to love the bunker, wandering around the halls often, despite the pain in her swollen ankles, offering to help Eileen and Jack digitize part of their werewolf books. She delighted at finding the series on werewolf transgenderism and wondered aloud if Diana could use some of this to help understand how HRT could affect a were on a full moon and their ability to stay lucid. 

It was easy how she settled in, though Sam did ask her how she could feel so at peace so far underground. “Diana doesn’t  _ do _ underground. She’ll never come here to nag me to death,” she said simply. Everyone just nodded and left it at that, enjoying three days of typing up and organizing books and journals, soft music playing and Jack’s shows playing on his tablet as he lounged around. 

It was only normal that Eileen and Sam would leave the bunker for some alone time together, now that their home had more people. So it wasn’t a surprise when Eileen pushed herself from her seat, demanding Sam put on something without a blood or dirt stain on it, and announced they were going on a date. Sam didn’t even hesitate; the blush and beaming smile he failed at hiding under his hair as he all but ran to their room to change was fairly evident. 

With the two of them gone, Jack retired to his room, too tired to sit through any more books. Dean decided it was high time for another movie night. It had been weeks, which was weird for them because Dean insisted they’d have one every second night it there wasn’t a hunt. It was nice to have the three - sometimes four - of them lounging around. Dean had found several old 3mm reels in one of the storage rooms, along with a vintage projector and screen. Eileen was delighted to find they were all silent films - finally having equal footing. Dean didn’t mind them. Okay, so he loved them, especially Metropolis, but he’d never say it out loud. 

Susan had chosen something vintage, but modern enough to be live action, with Greta Garbo washing her face in snow and being a badass bisexual queen. She said it had to have been the flick to make Diana feel safe enough to come out to her. 

“I mean, I already knew,” she interrupted the monologue on screen as she opened her yogurt cup. “The way she looked at Nicole Kidman when we saw Stepford Wives wasn’t something you could ignore.”

Dean laughed. “She go all goo-goo eyed?”

Susan hoisted her swollen ankles into his lap. “She went out and bought a freakin’ vintage dress. She never even wore it! I had to go return it, and I find out that the lady at the store looked  _ exactly  _ like Kidman, and that’s why she went in.” Dean laughed even harder. “Damn useless bisexual sometimes, I swear it.” She muttered. 

“But damn good with a knife.”

“Damn good.”

They had a lull in conversation as Queen Christina rode through a forest on horseback. 

“So…” Dean started. “I don't know if you wanna talk about it, but… I gotta ask.”

“What?” Susan asked behind a mouthful of yogurt. 

“Who- the father- I’m just curious-”

She put the yogurt down and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It's okay Dean. It's- it's actually Nathan’s”

He didn’t realize he’d been shaking until her arm laid on his. **_Pull your shit together man!_ ** “Your late husband's? But-?”

“Sperm bank. When he was diagnosed we decided to freeze some of his sperm and some of my eggs, just in case the radiation was too much. It was-” fresh tears threatened to spill over. “It was the weirdest day of our whole marriage, sneaking into the room to… well, anyways. They called a week before Diana and Lynn proposed to each other, and the bank said they were moving shop, something about ‘expanding to more communities’ which is code for ‘we haven't updated our lease cuz it's super expensive so let's just move instead.’” She did a nasally voice and it brought a smile to them both. “They wanted to give a heads up, but I took it as a sign from Nathan. It's like he was telling me that it was time. Time to put up roots and leave the hunting to someone else. To have what I've always wanted: a child with the love of my life.” She rubbed at her belly, slow and gentle. “So I took the chance. I booked an appointment and just… yeah.”

“Diana wasn't very happy when she found out you didn't consult her first huh?”

Susan laughed. “She said: Susan, you're my sister and I would never dream of telling you what to do with your body, but  **_shit_ ** woman! You couldn't give me a heads up?!? How am I supposed to build a crib in such a short amount of time?”

Dean just about doubled over. “She's building a crib?”

“ _ Attempting _ . The key work is  _ attempting _ .”

They chuckled at that and fell into a comfortable silence before Dean broke it. His voice was shaken and almost a whisper, but in the quiet of the bunker with just the two of them, Susan heard every word. 

“I'm a father myself actually.” Silence. He looked at her, waiting for her judgement or worse, her anger at Dean abandoning his kids. But she only looked back with a gentleness he wasn't expecting.  She nodded once as if to get him to continue, so he did. “I have a son, and I have-  _ had  _ a daughter. She died. Well, turns out she was half monster and Sam ended up killing her. But still. I'm a father and it's still.. so surreal.”

“Do you get a chance to visit your son?”

A hard lump in his throat threatened to bust forth several feat. “No. Ca- someone tried to torture him and his mom as payback for all the demons I’ve killed, and our angel friend wiped their memory of me so they’d be safe.” He let out a gust of air, closing his eyes. “I hope one day, maybe I’ll get to run into them again, maybe at a Walmart parking lot, just in passing, just to know- to know they’re okay.” 

Susan patted his face gently, whipping up the tears there. “Hey. Look at me.” He cracked an eye open. “The kid’s got your DNA, so he’s a fighter. Muscle memory is a hell of a thing, and I think he’ll be okay with whatever is thrown his way. And I don’t think that ache will go away, but it’ll turn to a bittersweet series of memories one day. Besides, he lucked out.”

Dean opened his other eye, leaning away from her hands. “Oh yeah? What’s that?” 

“I don’t know how Lisa looks, but I have a feeling she’s hot as hell, so the kid’s gonna grow up to be a hell of a looker. He’ll do just fine.”

Dean laughed. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Statistically, more conventionally attractive people make more than non conventionally attractive people. So long as he does what he loves, he’ll be great. Now, rub my feet before I eat all your Twizzlers.” 

He shook his head, but complied. “You ever.. think of being with someone else?” 

She snorted. “Dean, no offence, but your not my type.”

“ _Full_ offence! I’m everyone’s type.”

She shook her head, grabbing her phone and sorting through pictures. Finding the right ones, she tilted the phone to him. It had to have been inside a hospital chapel, small and only a few candles lit. She was younger, wearing a white tshirt and her green scrub bottoms, a tacky cheap used veil, cheap pearl necklace around her neck. To the left stood a shorter man, around 5”6’, if he had to guess, crooked nose, a strong chin and deep brown eyes. Big smile on, wearing a hospital gown with a tailcoat over top, the most ridiculous red top hat over his ears. He had an oxygen tank nearby, and a fake flowers covered his IV stand. Diana, thinner but still strong, stood on the other side, tacky ‘80’s thrift store dress and a bowler hat on her shaved head, held a bouquet of the same faux blooms that Nathan had on his stand. Another man stood on his other side, a red blazer and gold Lycra pants on, shoes ridiculous sparkly. “This was your wedding. Nathan looks…”

“Sick? Cool? Sexy as hell?”

“Like he’s in love.” They fell silent, Greta Garbo arguing with her romantic interest in screen, completely forgotten. “Who, uh, who’s the other guy?”

“Oh! Danny. He was in Diana’s unit in Afghanistan. He and Nathan grew up right across the street from each other. Diana actually was his beard in the army when  _ Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell _ was still in effect. He… he suffered a lot of PTSD after. Hit his head really hard and was in a coma a few months… after this day.” She sighed. “He’s a good guy, and he never got a chance to say goodbye.” 

“But he had a chance to be there for that day.”

She chuckled bitter sweetly. She swiped to the next photo, a bunch of nurses wearing fake flowers in their lapels. There were several other photos of her with her nurse friends, all in ridiculous poses, one of Danny trying - and failing - to dip Diana, her face twisted in horror. There were a lot of them very silly, one where Nathan stood on a chair to kiss her, Diana photobombing behind them kissing a can of ginger ale. 

His favourite had to be one with the both of them sitting close in a pew, taken from a bit higher up, talking and looking into each other’s eyes. They looked so in love, eyes soft, hands grasped softly. It was so beautiful, he swiped the phone when she wasn’t looking and sent it to himself. 

**_I’ll print it later_ ** , he thought.  **_Put it in a frame for her._ ** He didn’t see any pictures of Nathan in their house and he wondered if it was too painful for her, or if she just couldn’t decide which one to print. But he knew that Sam still wishes he had more pictures of Jess around, and Susan must feel the same. 

 

—————

 

On the fifth day, as Dean made breakfast, Jack sat at the table, something of a rare occurrence. They were rarely alone, Jack still traumatized at finding Dean’s prone body on floor in his own blood. But having him home for the occasional holiday and break was making things a little easier. 

“Did the school email you on when they’re opening up again?” He flipped a pancake, turning his head to the side to see the boy. 

“Yes. The water damage is more extensive than they anticipated and they’re considering closing it for the rest of the semester.”

“That sucks.” The below freezing temperatures and four ice storms they had gotten this winter had been overwhelming. Dean couldn’t even ride the impala in the snow and slush. The school hadn’t been prepared for their water main to freeze then burst just days after the new year, destroying half the dormitories and the main dining hall. The students had all been sent home, and Jack was feeling restless. Dean noted his isolation and depression, missing what few friends he had made. Jack had power, and he lashed out with it when threatened, but he had been working at it at the school. Now…. he looked scared. No safety net. No chappel to hide out in when he felt overwhelmed. “What do you want to do if they close?”

Jack shot his head up from where he’d been leaning over the laptop. “Um. What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re still young, you need an education. We could enroll you in something online, there’s also public school, but we’d have to fake a lot of documents for that.”

Jack mulled it over, walking slowly to stand next to Dean. “Dean…”

“No.”

“But I- “

“We talked about this.” He stared the kid down. “I - I acted like a dick, and I’m still angry, but it’s not at you. And you not bringing him back isn’t on you. And neither is my sui- that um,” he took a shuddering breath in. “That time with the knife.” 

“I know.” He said solemnly. “I just wanted to tell you your pancake is burning.”

“Wha-? Oh shit!” Dean dragged the pan to the sink, sticking the whole thing under hot water. “Man! Those were chocolate chip.”

“It’s okay Dean. I’ll eat whatever’s left. I can eat that if you want.”

“Uh, fuck that.” They turned to see Susan stride in, ghostbuster nightgown stretched around her belly. “You’ll eat what we all eat - not scraps. You’re family, not a prisoner.” She shuffled in with her fuzzy bunny slippers, ruffling Jack’s hair on her way to the fridge. “What’s the school saying about opening up again?”

“They might not open at all this semester.”

“Aw, fuck!” She exclaimed, slamming the fridge door. 

“It’s okay Susan, Dean says there are online courses I could take.”

“No, it’s not that. My water just broke.”

Jack moved towards the fridge next to her. “That’s okay, I can get you a new- oh! Susan. There’s water… on the… uh, Dean?” 

Dean turned to look, a puddle on the floor and Susan holding her pregnant belly in shock. “It’s too early.”

She looked at him with fear in her eyes. “I know.”

“Sam! Eileen!”

“Dean!” She looked at him with shock and a bit of disgust. 

“Shit, right. I’ll text her. Jack, grab Susan’s phone and call Diana.” Dean rushed towards her, grabbing the kitchen towel on the way over. “Uh….  _ Uuhhhhh _ .. what do I- what do you need me to do? Should I call and ambulance? No, that’s stupid. I’ll go get the Impala. No, crap! It’s still snowing. Um… here!” He thrust the towel into her hands. “For your..” he motioned towards her crotch. “Um.”

Susan locked eyes with him, the fear melting away to mirth. “Oh golly gee! A towel! That’ll help my vagina! Quick! Grab a sponge!”

Dean was so panicked, it took three steps towards the drawer before he realized she was being sarcastic. “Oh ha ha. Very funny! Believe it or no, I’ve never done this before.”

Jack looked up at him in confusion, Susan’s phone to his ear as it tried connecting to its intended user. “What about when I was born? You were there.”

“ _ After.  _ We were there  _ after _ you were born. Cas-“ his blood went cold. “Never mind. Where the hell is sam?”

On cue, Sam slid into the kitchen on socked feet, gun raised. “What is it? Where’s the monster?”

“No monster, just a baby.” Jack was so formal sometimes it was hard to tell when he was joking or not. “Oh! Hi Diana! This is Jack…. uh huh… yes, that Jack! Oh? Oh yes, I’m fine… my studies… um, Diana? Yes, Susan is fine, her water just broke.”

“ _ What????!!!”  _ He pulled away from the phone at her screech. The entire kitchen could hear her scream through the tiny cell phone receiver. 

“She sounds mad.” Jack’s face screwed up in confusion. He turned to Sam as the man disengaged his weapon and placed it in the table. “Is she not happy about the baby coming?” 

“No, Jack. The baby’s just early, and she’s probably worried. Here, give me that. Go get Eileen. She’s in the shooting range. Careful she doesn’t shoot you.”

Jack did as told, wondering aloud, “bullets won’t kill me though,” as he walked out. 

Sam took the call as Dean helped her waddle out of the kitchen. “How early are you?”

“Four and a half weeks.”

“Shit… the odds?”

She looked at him grimly. “Not great. Especially in our family.”

“Fuck.” He wished the burnt pancakes would be the worst of their worries today. Sucks when your a Winchester; you never get that luxury. “Okay, what do you need? Hospital, right?"

“Yeah. And my bag. Hey, Sam!” She yelled over her shoulder. “Tell Diana to get my overnight bag!” 

“You got it.” 

They rounded the corner and she gripped his shoulder tightly. “I want all the drugs, all of them. Lynn won’t want me too cuz she’s been obsessed with those articles about how it’s bad and blah blah blah, but there’s not a high risk if it’s done properly. Oh! I want a senior anesthesiologist, no punk who even remotely  _ looks  _ under thirty five. And a single room, I refuse to share. And I want you to keep Lynn away from the nurses - she might look calm, but she’ll fucking snap the second they- oh.” 

“What? What?” He stopped, letting her lean along the wall. “What’s wrong.”

She ran her hand low on her belly. “Yep, Yeah. That’s a contraction. How far is the closest hospital?”

“Thirty minutes.”

She placed both hands on his shoulders, murderous rage behind her eyes. “You gotta do it in twelve.”

The “oh fuck” that passed his lips was so soft, he barely even caught it himself. He rushed her to the garage, thankful her car had proper winter tires and reclining seats. He moved over to the workbench to grab something and thrust it into her hands. “Here - there’s some reading material. The hospital only carries five magazines and two of them are retired people stuff.” 

She nodded, flipping through the catalogues and home and gardens magazines he must have pinched at a doctor’s office. “Okay, but we need to leave like  _ now _ .”

“Sorry, Sorry! I’m- im panicking!”

“Holy shit! Okay!”

“Okay!”

“Oh, Um, I think this is yours.” Susan handed him a stack of  _ Busty Asian Beauties _ magazines. “They’re not really my thing and I doubt the staff would appreciate if- oops!” They slid from her grasp, too slow to catch them, they fell open, photographs spilling out of them. 

Dean felt himself going tomato red. Then lobster red. Then his body threatened to explode, face first. Being caught with pictures of your dead best friend stuffed between the pages of a porn mag was easily in the top ten worst possible sexual humiliations he could ever think of. “I-“

“Aaaah! Already forgotten!” She grimaced, another contraction washing over her. 

He swiped the keys from her glovebox.  “Right! Pregnant and ready to… not be!”

“Articulate.” Sam strode in, Eileen and Jack in tow. 

Dean raised a hand. “Maybe you should stay behind, you know, with Jack.”

“Fuck. That.” Susan gritted through clenched teeth. It wasn’t that they were painful just yet, but the uncertainty of what could happen was too high to ignore. “I want Jack there.”

Dean and Jack responded in sync with a “What?”

“This Baby is a  _ month  _ early. That’s eleven percent of her growth  _ not yet finished.” _ She opened the unlocked rental and there the magazines in the trunk. “If something goes wrong, I’m going to need him there. If anything, it’ll give him a chance to see how things work in a hospital and a uterus.”

Dean wanted to interject, to tell the kid that there was no way in hell he was coming along. But she was right. They needed his angel mojo if something went wrong. “Kay, I’ll take Susan up and we’ll meet you in the ER. Drive carefully, and park near entrance C.”

Sam nodded, trying to sign words Dean forgot about, and she listened intently before dragging Susan into her shitty rental car. “ _ Hospital. Now.” _

 

\----------

 

It’s a safe assumption to say that Dean is a little bit fearful of Nurse Natalie Silva, her calm demeanor around the moms was a perfectly constructed mask for the total batshit crazy behaviour around the other nurses and doctors. 

“I’m just saying, if he wanted to switch shifts with me, maybe he shouldn’t have been a little bitch at the Christmas party.” 

Dean stopped short, cup of ice chips in one hand, staring at the nurses station where nurse Silva had her feet propped on the counter from where she sat, pouring a tiny bottle of something into her coffee cup. She swung her ponytail side to side as she whipped around to continue her conversation with the other nurse. “Natalie,” the older woman started. “Look, the thing about your logic - which by the way, is gross - is that even if he  _ had  _ agreed to sleep with you, you would have kept the shift anyways.”

Nurse Silva just shrugged, sipping at her coffee. “Whatever. You’re just upset cuz you haven’t gotten laid in years. Ho long has it been? Ten? Is your vagina just a sahara now?”

The other nurse - Dion… something - looked up from her chart to see Dean standing there in shock. “Mr. Rafferty. Remember, nothing other than those, no matter how much she asks.”

He forced a smile and nodded once. “You got it. But uh… how long until the epidural kicks in, because-”

“AaaaaaaAAAAAAA _ AGGGHHH!!! _ ” All three winced at her screams from the room down the hall. 

“Yeah, I’ll call doctor Khan. Ask him to see what’s going on.” Silva put down the cup to do just that, Dion following Dean to calm down a screaming Susan, Eileen dabing at her forehead with a damp washcloth. Eileen looked so awkward, so unsure of what to do or say to her friend in pain. Dean passed her the chips and took the lukewarm cloth to rinse. “Okay, Mrs. Rafferty, could you rate your pain for me please?”

Susan grabbed the nurse’s scrubs and pulled her in close. “Dr. Khan best not have missed or given me not enough cuz…. ooooooooooooOOOOOOOOH! FUUUUUUUUCK! This is a fucking nightmare! Nurse Silva is a fucking moron!”

“Uh.. honey..?”

“Don’t honey me! This hurts like a bi- oh.” Her face contorted in a strange mix between elation and confusion. “Oh. Oh wow. Wow. that’s…  _ weird _ .”

Dean turned around to see Jack standing in the doorway, eyes glowing gold as he focused his gaze on Susan. He let out a sigh of relief.  **_He’s taking her pain away. He’s such a good kid._ ** The thoughts felt foreign, but maybe it was high time he finally gave the kid some credit. 

“The epidural sometimes takes thirty minutes to kick in.” Susan let go of nurse Dion’s scrubs, the older woman letting her settle amongst the pillows. “I know that’s not your usual department nurse Rafferty, but it’s okay. I promise to take care of you.”

“No more nurse Silva, please. Her breath smells like alcohol and my sister is going to be here in six hours, and she’s a reco- oh. Oh  _ BIG  _ contraction,  _ fuuuuuck- _ ” She gripped Eileen’s hand tightly, squeezing as she waited to ride it out. “Okay, okay, not so bad now, okay.”

Nurse Dion smiled tightly. “I’ll see what I can do to switch you around, dear,” then curtly left. 

Susan reached a hand out for Jack to hold on her right side. The kid all but running to sit next to her. “That was you, right?” He nodded tightly. “Thank you. This is excruciating. I already knew that, but…” she sniffled, Jack wiping the tear away from her cheek. “She’s too early. I-” She huffed.

“It’s okay aunt Susan, I’m here. I can hold your hand while Eileen gets coffee.” His smile was big and genuine, dimples so much like Sam’s that Dean felt transported back to July 4th, 1996, fireworks lighting his brother’s smile, feeling like they’d just won the lottery. “Do you want some ice chips?”

The rest of the day was much the same, everyone switching now and again for washcloth and ice chips duty, Jack a constant at her side. Sam whispered how proud of him in his ear when Susan wasn’t paying attention, the kid’s smile gaining another hundred watts. Dean stayed as far away from nurse SIlva as possible and doing whatever Susan asked. Including going all the way to the closest WalMart for the boxed set of the children’s show she and Jack refused to shut up about. He didn’t really mind that much, but if he could be as dramatic possible, he would, just because. He wondered if that’s why Crowley always used to do it. Just for funsies.  **_Well, no shit._ **

By two pm, Sam finally left to go pick up Lynn and Diana from the airport, taking Eileen with him. Dean sat with Susan and Jack, paying more attention to the show than he’d care to admit, holding her hand as each contraction went through her, Jack easing as much as he could. By four pm, she was already pushing, Diana’s yelling from the parking lot louder than the grunts Susan herself was supplying. 

“Let me through. LET ME  _ THROUGH _ ! That’s my  _ sister _ ! Lemme- Susan!” Diana slid into the room, still dressed in her pajamas, wheelie shoes on her feet and hair tied up in two identical messy buns. “Susan! Oh geez… okay, okay, move Dean.”

He knew better than argue, letting go of Susan’s hand to move behind her to push back the hair in her face. The doctors and nurses tried to get Jack to leave with Sam, Eileen and Lynn, but one look from the Wilson sisters and they just… shut up. No one got in the way of those two, no one. 

“One more push, its okay, just one more.” Dean rubbed at her back, hoping he was right. She looked so tired, spent. “It’s okay. We got you. You’re not alone. It’s okay. We gotcha.”

She looked back at him from upside down, nodding once, and pushed one last time, the tiny baby letting out her first scream in the world. Dean wasn’t sure why, but he half expected her to have a long braid too, but the little bald headed squealing baby squirming in the doctor’s arms still looked beautiful. They cleaned her, swaddling her in the blanket Eileen bought in the gift shop, and lay the tiny baby in her arms. 

“So.” Nurse Dion asked, moving the stirrups down. “What’s her name?”

“Penelope.”

Diana startled, staring at her sister. “Really? After… after mom?”

“Yeah. After mom. It was Nathan’s too pick when he… when we talked about it.”

Diana stared at her sister, tears welling up in her eyes. “You did it, Ace. You have a baby.”

Susan laughed, Penelope opening her big eyes to gaze up at her. “Hi! Hello tiny one! I’m your mommy. This is your family. You are…” she kissed her tiny chubby cheek. “So precious to me. I- your papa loves you… so  _ much _ , and I love you  _ so much too. _ You’re going to be the safest kid in the whole wide world, and you’re going to learn so much, and maybe one day, you’ll change the world like your auntie Lynn or your daddy, but ig you go to war like your auntie Di,” her cooing turned sarcastic and biting, still talking in her baby talk. “I’m going to drag your ass back home so fast, you’re going to lose both shoes down a sewer grate!” Penelope yawned, already tired with the adults around her. “I love you so so so so  _ so so much _ .” 

Dean looked over at Jack, awe in his face, Sam staring proud at the kid and he felt the pit of his stomach drop. He felt someone tug on his sleeve, Diana motioning him to sit down. He did, reaching over to gently stroke her face with a finger. Lightning fast, Penelope grabbed his finger, grasping it tightly. “Hey. Looks like the hunter genes are hereditary, huh?” He chuckled. “You’ll never have to hunt though, but I can teach you to wrestle.”

“Oh my God, Dean!” Sam whined.

“Shut up. She’s gonna be  _ great _ . Aren’t you? You’re just going to steal hearts and break world records and-” He stopped breathing as she looked at him, her hazel eyes boring into his, eyes so familiar yet so foreign. “You’re amazing.”

The doctors kept Susan and Penelope overnight for observation, awed at how strong they both were despite Penelope being very early. Dean and Jack stayed with them as the rest of the clan headed back to get some baby things for the bunker - for the time being. 

Penelope fell asleep in his arms as Susan snored next to him, Jack standing next to him in awe. “What did you do, Jack?”

“I-” He looked almost ashamed as he admitted, “her heart wasn’t done developing, so I helped her. Susan was bleeding a lot too, so I-” he held his breath as Dean looked up at him.   
“Ya did good, kid. Ya did  _ great _ .” Jack beamed back at him, pulling a tiny hat from his pocket - probably bought it in the gift shop earlier when Dean wasn’t looking - and carefully put it on her head. He sat back in the chair next to her bed, and they watched more of the cartoon the kid loved so much, Dean more content to sit with him than he had in a long time. Jack was a good kid, and Dean knew he had to make more of an effort to be a better role model. He couldn’t have a fresh start with him, but trying anyways was better than nothing. So he sat, asked questions about the show, listened intently to each and every detail Jack told him, baby resting on his chest, feeling a sense of peace he didn’t know he was allowed to have. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you could guess the movie Dean and Susan were watching, than you too might be a useless bisexual like me (who also bought unnecessary things in stores just cuz the cashiers were cute af, like Diana!) with awesome movie tastes too. Also, yay Steven Universe and the other few allusions to other shows I made along the way.


	6. Bargaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean being a dope uncle, working through his grief, Claire's there, oh also Castiel is back, and a cake made from two pies!

 

Dean's awakening would have been rude had it not been for two little hands gently patting him on his chest and a raspberry noise followed. He cracked one eye open to see Penelope gently patting him as if she were playing the bongos and murmured in gibberish at her uncle Dean finally being awake. He groaned gently before resigning himself to waking up. 

Penelope was special, there was no doubt about that. She lived in a house that was perhaps the most warded against all things that nightmares were made of, had three aunts, one of which taught her sign language over skype once a week, another who was an ex military woman, two uncles who were scarier than any soldier and a mom who loved her as much as scolded her. Not to mention the rest of the hunting community who popped in on their little farm more often than ever, everyone wanting to hold her and coo gibberish at her smiling face. And here she was, patting anyone who dared sleep on while she was ready for an adventure, not a fear in the world. 

Dean scooped her into his arms as soon as his robe was on securely. He babbled back to her as she babbled to him, passing Diana and Lynn's open door on his way down. He paused to see them still fairly fast asleep, having had a long night of dealing with Pep's endless energy. He meandered down to start breakfast for the family, as Pep sat happy in her high chair. Well, happy was a subjective term. She looked annoyed that Dean was paying more attention to the pancake batter than at her, but after a couple moments of rigging, he made several of the house mirrors reflect off one another to make it easier for him to cook while she still could see his face. 

He liked this. Visiting the Wilsons always proved great but now that the toddler had six separate people spoiling her - seven when they let Jack near her long enough for him to poof little stuffed animals into her lap - Dean felt like he was finally where he was meant to be. 

His thoughts were interrupted, however, by the shrill sound of the guitar solo of his ringtone. Putting down the egg carton, he grabbed the phone and pressed blindly on the ‘accept call’ button. “Hello?”

“So, I wouldn't normally call for something this stupid,” a woman's voice came through, a bit garbled by static. “But Jody and Alex aren't picking up and the tow truck won't be another couple of hours because of this  _ stupid snow _ , but I think I bought a lemon and now I'm stuck!”

“Wha- Claire? You bought a new car?”

“I bought a  _ LEMON  _ Dean! And Jody even had her mechanic check it out and he said it was all good, but clearly he’s a hack cuz the damn thing broke down on me on this side road, and I'm  _ stuck  _ on the side of the road, the  _ heat’s  _ about to give out and  _ no one goes back here! _ Also, there's like a foot of snow and I can't walk in this cuz I'm  _ wearing sneakers _ !”

“Okay, okay. Just take a deep breath kiddo.”

“I'm not a kid.” Claire deadpanned. Dean rolled his eyes but could hear her taking deep and steady breaths, so he stayed silent. “I'm just- can you call me a better tow or something please? My data isn't working and I can't get through to anywhere else-” her voice choked at the end and Dean immediately put himself into action. 

He pulled a pen from basket on the fridge, grabbing the back of a shopping list to write on. “What road are you on?” 

“Hunt Mill Road near Simeles? Simmions? Ugh! I can't see the sign and the one house I did pass was empty!” 

“Do you mean Symes Pond Road?”

“Yeah! Wait, how did you know that?” He could hear her move something around on her seat. 

He dropped the pen, turning the stove off. “Because I'm fifteen minutes away from you Claire, that's how.” He covered the hot pan with it’s lid, batter going back into the fridge for later.

“What?” 

“I'll be there in twenty, just hang tight. Try to stay warm okay.”

“No Dean, you don't have to-”

“Claire.’ he stopped moving about. “It'll take me less time to get to you, show you how to fix the problem, put a little gas in your car,  _ and  _ drive back for breakfast than it will for the tow truck to get to you. I'm on my way. Just sit tight, okay?” 

There was a pause on the other end so long, he thought he'd been hung up on until, “ugh. Okay. Thanks.” 

He grabbed Penelope and took the stairs two at a time to see if Diana and Lynn were awake, only to find both woman completely dead to the world - so to speak. Dean took a second to decide if he should wake them or just take the baby with him. She seemed to decide for him by pulling on his shirt, and then her own to show him it was time to get her dressed. He rolled his eyes at how bossy she had already gotten before she could speak but bundled her up in her snow clothes anyways. He didn't even bother changing out of his sleep shirt, just throwing on his jeans and a flannel. He grabbed a few coats from the coat closet as insurance against the strong winds. 

Sam had take the impala to check on Jack and Eileen so he went straight for Diana's truck. All the tools he needed were already in a metal box in the back and the car seat was ready to go. He almost forgot to leave a note before realizing he could just text her instead. Once Pep was snuggled in, he started up the truck and flipped around in the CD album in the front to find something decent. 

“Your aunt still makes mix CDs huh?” She may not know what he was saying, but she sure listened intently. “You know, I used to make mix tapes myself, but you'll probably never see a cassette in your life so you have no idea what I'm saying! No you don't! No you don't! Ah! Classic.” He popped in an AC/DC mix and pulled out of the snowy driveway. “It's a damn good thing your aunt put on snow tires huh?”

The snow covered dirt roads in the countryside were empty, people settling into their early January days. It was a quiet drive, AC/DC thumping low in the car and Penelope’s babbles soft as she wiggled to the music. Penelope wasn’t old enough to dance, walk, or talk, let alone sing, but she sure loved to wiggle any time music played, even commercials. 

Claire’s car was not bad looking from the outside. It had a little rust around the wheel wells but it didn't detract that much from the rest of the silver paint. It was a simple sedan, almost inconspicuous which is probably why she chose it. He pulled up in front of the vehicle, shutting off the engine and hopping out. He started walking towards her before he heard a tiny fist bang against the glass. He turned back and pulled Pep out of her car seat and into the warmth of his leather jacket. 

“So, you stealing babies now too?” He looked over at Claire to see her shivering in nothing but her jeans and army green jacket. 

“No, it's Penelope.” He reached back into the truck and grabbed a coat for Claire next to Pep’s car seat, throwing it at her as he slammed the door shut. 

“Thanks. Who?”

“Pep! Susan's kid?” Pep patted his face again at the sound of her own name. 

“Well damn. She's bigger than when I last saw her. And her hair is way too long to be natural.” Claire huffed, zipping up the coat. She put one hand in the pocket and another up to . “Hey Pep. Remember me?” Pep sniffed at her hand like a cat with an unfamiliar foe before rubbing her face all over any part of Claire she could reach. Claire pulled her hand back with a look of disgust on her face. “Ew, baby drool.”

Dean laughed quietly. “Yeah, she tends to do that. Here, hold her while I grab some stuff.” He passed her the baby gently, making sure Clair had a firm grasp on the squirmy legs and bottom. He opened the flap on the truck bed and climbed up to reach the toolbox attached there. Climbing down, he set it on the open flap and opened it to find a strapped baby carrier still wrapped in plastic sitting on top of the tools. He looked up at the sky wondering who was responsible for his life being this way before sighing and ripping out the carrier from its plastic. Getting it on required more work than he thought, but having Claire read the directions as he tried helped. “You are  _ so  _ lucky my phone just died or else I would have a slideshow of pictures by now.” Penelope seemed more than pleased to be nestled on her Uncle Dean's back as he worked, nibbling on the back of his neck like the world’s shittiest vampire baby, so everyone was happy. 

“Okay, let's see,” Dean opened the trunk and poked around a bit. Snow was starting to fall again, but it was light and sparse so they ignored it. “Okay, see here. That's your oil gauge.”

“Yeah, I know what an oil gauge is Dean.”

“Okay wise ass, then tell me why there's no oil left in there.”

“Well maybe it got used up or..” Dean pulled a flashlight from the toolbox to shine a light better down towards the bottom. “Oh crap. Is that a hole?” 

“Yup. Rust ate right through it. You're leaking oil and pooling right by your coolant.” 

“ **_Aaaaagghhhhh!!!_ ** ” She pulled away from the hood to stand in the middle of the road to scream. She started to stomp her feet violently too, and waved her arms like an angry windmill come to life to exact revenge against the humans that built it. After a breath, she came back. Her facial expression showed how upset she still was, but the rest of her went back to almost professional. Dean raised an eyebrow at the display but ultimately said nothing as Claire trudged back through the snow to the car, snow clinging to her jeans as a last resort. “Can we fix it?”

“Not out here, but we can have it towed to the Wilsons’. They have a garage with a bunch of spare parts that we can use.”

She shook her head. “No, no. You don't have to do that. I'll just… I'll duct tape it.” She reached into the toolbox rummaging around for the tape.

“Claire.” Dean gently placed a hand on her shoulder, but she kept on digging, a pair of pliers falling onto the truck bed with a clang. The snow was starting to pile up quickly. “Claire, it's okay. I can help you.”

“No, it's not okay!” She turned around, wrench in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. “I don't need your help, I don't need anyone's help! I can do this alone, and not bother you, or Sam, or Jody and I can fix a broken- oil- leak. I just-” Tears fell hot and fast on her face, her whole body shaking again, but not from cold. “I don't- I don't know how to- I can't-!” Dean grabbed her by the shoulders and brought her into a gentle hug. He rubbed at her back until she dropped the tools and hugged back, one arm finding Pep instead of his back. 

“It's okay to ask for help, Claire. That's why you called. And listen, you don't have to do everything alone. That's why you have us -  _ all _ of us. Besides, it's only a twenty minute drive, and the snow is getting worse. I doubt duct tape would work, and even if it did, by the time you'd be finished taping it up, you'd be stuck in this snow with no oil, no phone and no heat” he pulled away as she wiped at her eyes roughly. “Besides, the Wilsons’ have hot chocolate from Belize and Lynn made shortbread cookies.” They both laughed, the smile sad on her face, but still there. “We can call for a tow and by the time they've brought it over, we’d just be finishing eating breakfast and watching some bad reality TV. Huh?” 

She nodded and moved to pick up the tools she dropped and wiped them on her jeans before dropping them back in the box. She moved to the car to grab some things as Dean called for a tow. Pep helped by babbling at Dean's head, trying to get through to the speaker in the other side. He tried gently pushing her away, but she was too much like her aunt Diana, constantly getting into other people’s spaces and assert her dominance. Once they had everything placed safely in the truck - Penelope and her bossy face included - Dean gave his phone to Claire to track the tow as they pulled out of Hunt Mill Road.

The snow was falling more heavily now, so it took over half an hour to drive back slowly in the slush. Pep started babbling to Claire now, reaching out to try and grab at the long hair and failing. Claire turn in her seat to give her a finger to grasp instead. The music played low, a steady strum of rock filling the cabin, warm and cosy unlike the harsh weather outside. A blanket of safety fell on the occupants of the truck, a breath they’d all been holding in escaped, relief washed over them. 

The second they pulled in, Lynn was opening the door and shooing them in. “Come on, come on, it's  _ freezing _ !” She pulled off Claire’s coat and dropped it on the carpeted floor before pulling her into a hug. “I'm glad you're here Claire, despite the circumstances of course.” Claire fell into her warmth, still shivering from the cold. 

“Diana still asleep?” Dean asked, walking past them to set Pep on the sofa in the living room to get her out of her snow clothes. 

Lynn brushed stray snowflakes from Claire’s head. “Yeah. She's snoring away. I want to let her sleep for a few more hours. After we put Pep to bed, she stayed up to code for a solid two hours without a break.”

“What's she coding for?” Claire pulled away from Lynn enough to look at her. 

“Some client. But her deadline’s not for another three weeks. Once she starts it's hard to stop her though. Sometimes I wonder if she's possessed by a coding demon.” 

Claire laughed, letting Lynn pull her to her office to change into dry clothes. 

Days where he had little to do save for eat and watch TV were some of his favourites. Now that he had a little niece to keep pre-occupied on those lazy days, he found them less lazy, but no less fun. He most loved when she’d fall asleep on his chest watching a movie and anytime she squealed with laughter at something dumb. So he would always try to make her laugh - not that he didn’t try making everyone else laugh, it’s just Pep was far more easily amused than the rest of her family - every free second he had. Like now, with her in his lap, watching some cooking show, blowing a raspberry everytime the chef mentioned the fruit. Penelope started mimicking him after ten minutes, much to the chagrin of both Lynn and Claire.

Diana walked into the living room in her robe and pjs, hair long enough now to be a total bird’s nest. She shuffled in wearing her wife's bunny slippers and a plate of food in her hands, Brutus trailing behind her, waiting to pick up any scraps she might drop. “Hey.”

“Good morning” Lynn turned to look at her. 

“Meh. Shaddup.” She fell into Lynn's lap on the good armchair and pulled a piece of bacon off her plate to eat. “Hey, uh, Claire?” 

Claire turned to Diana, twisting her borrowed sweater cuffs in her hands. “Yeah Di?”

“Were we expecting you today? How long was I out?” She asked the latter to her wife, confused. 

“No we weren't.” Dean replied, feeding Pep the last of her second bottle of the day. “Her car broke down on Hunt Mill Road and I brought her here. The oil hull rusted a hole and it needs replacing. Tow truck should be here in about…” he leaned over to look at the GSP tracker on his phone in Claire's hand. “Twenty - twenty five minutes. Mind if I use some of the stuff in the garage to fix it?” 

Diana waved the hand not holding the plate towards him. “Yeah, go nuts.” She yawned. “Wait. Claire, not the new one you just got? The… what'd you call it - Tardar Sauce?” 

“Yeah… Tardar Sauce. It's really getting to be a pain.” 

“Tardar Sauce?” Lynn asked, taking the words out of Dean’s mouth. 

“Yeah. Like Grumpy Cat. That's the cats real name. Cuz the car’s got an attitude but it gets her from point A to B in one piece. Plus the original seating looked like faux cat fur.” Diana mumbled over a slice of bacon. “It was nasty.” 

Dean bit back a smirk, already feeling the stank eye he had no doubt she was giving him out of the corner of her eye. 

“Where were you going anyways Claire?” Lynn asked. 

Dean put the empty bottle down and handed Pep to Lynn for burping. “Yeah, that's a good point. You’re over a day’s drive from South Dakota.”

She looked dead centre at the TV without saying anything. Dean shook her shoulder gently, earning him a clipped look. “I was driving home from Montreal, okay?! Geez, enough with the third degree..”

“What's in Montreal?” Diana asked. 

“People and things, I’d imagine.” Lynn replied, a look of pride on her face when her wife gave her an unused look back. “Were you there for the Montreal en Lumière Festival? Or Igloofest?”

Claire looked at her hands, the cuffs of the sleeves suddenly in need of twisting again. “No. Those aren't until February.” 

“College tours?” Dean hoped. 

“No.”

Diana put the plate of food down, taking Pep from Lynn's grasp to snuggle. “Were you hunting?” 

“Hunting in another country, _alone?!_ ” Dean turned fully to scold Claire. **_She's not your daughter,_** he thought. **_But someone has to be a parental figure here right now, and you're it._**

“No! Okay, none of the above! I just- I went to-” Then she did the one thing no one expected. She rolled into a ball, knees tucked into her chest and arms wrapped around them protectively. Her head tucked in nicely there, hiding her from all the accusations. 

Dean looked to the other women for something, anything, but they just stared back as shocked as he was. He tentatively put a gentle hand on her shoulder, unsure of what to do here. The room stayed silent for awhile, TV gone mute some time ago, until Claire raised her head again. 

“I - I kind of went to a concert. It's this lame Canadian band but I like them, so I went. Alex was supposed to come with me but she had a competition in LA with her college mathlete team and it's the finals so she told me to go without her. And I didn't think it would snow this much, it's only November! But… it did. And then I got stuck trying to cross the border, and they thought I looked suspicious being a _ ‘lone young woman from the states’  _ coming there for a weekend.” She raised her hands to do the air quoted, and let them run through her hair after. “So they detained me for a few hours and then they let me in. Then I got stuck in traffic because a semi flipped over. I finally got there but because I was late, there were no motels left so I slept in the car-” 

“ _Claire_!” Lynn gasped. 

“- nothing happened! I was fine! But the concert took forever to start and then the band had to cancel halfway through because the drummer was sick, so I just left and started driving until I crossed the border again. I slept in my car on some back road and only woke up when it started to snow. And then all that happened with the oil and-” she was breathing hard again, fighting and losing a battle of tears streaming down her face. Dean pulled her into a hug, almost crushing. Diana pulled his arm off gently to plop Pep on her lap before the she and Lynn joined it. 

“You're safe here.” Diana mumbled in her hair. “You're safe and warm and with family.”

“But-” 

“And next time there's a concert and you're planning on going solo, you call us. I haven't been to a concert in a long time you know.” 

Claire gurgled with something of a laugh. “But you guys are so busy with work and  and-” 

“Never too busy to miss a concert.” Dean squeezed tighter. 

“See, Dean's always down for a concert.” Diana knelt on the floor in front of Claire as they all pulled off of her. She wiped at her face with the edge of her robe. “I'm sure he'd even get some guys to help you crowd surf if you wanted to.” They all laughed as Claire's face went into full horror mode™.  

“Thanks guys.” Claire leaned against Dean’s arm on the couch, Pep playing with the buttons on her sweater. “But I think I'll stay away from concerts for a bit.”

The phone conveniently chimed at that moment to signal the arrival of their tow. Dean clapped his hand on Claire's shoulder and they both stood to bundle up and head outside. Dean went through the garage looking for the part that would fit her car best and saw Claire looking fondly at a multicoloured triangle patterned steering wheel cover. He shrugged and smiled, reminding himself to sneak that in later when she wasn't looking. 

The snow had stopped for now, so there was an ounce of sunshine filtering through the clouds and a chance to stand comfortably side by side and fix the car. Claire seemed more comfortable now, going over the parts of the car with more knowledge than Dean gave her credit for. She picked up on every piece of information Dean gave her like a sponge to water. She was quick but efficient and they replaced the oil gauge well before lunch. When Claire went inside to bid her goodbyes, Dean pulled the steering wheel cover and stuck it onto her wheel. Claire pretended not to notice when she got into the car, but the extra long hug she gave him before pulling out of the driveway said she did. 

\-------------------

Two weeks later, Dean banged his finger with the wrench in his hand as if slipped from the pipe he’d been tightening. “Fuck!” He shook his hand in pain, trying to bring blood flow back into his fingers. 

It was rare that Dean found himself alone in the Wilsons’ home, with or without Penelope next to him. It felt odd, as if someone were about to jump out and yell boo! But, with a chainsaw or a flamethrower instead of just jazz hands and glitter. 

The building was old and it still had creaks - even with the upgrades - and it was hard to get  through nap time without one foot doing a misstep and waking her up with a loud groan from the rest of the house. He was antsy today with Pep napping, so he grabbed a spare notebook by the phone and a pen and started making a list. First, the stairs needed work. They were strong and well built, but the squeaking on the middle three steps sounded like a bat trying to squeeze through a keyhole. The spare rooms could all use a good paint job, especially since Penelope would soon be big enough to have her own room, and he already started picturing bookcases and a desk he could build for her. Not well, but between him, Diana, and their local IKEA, he was determined to make  _ something. _ The basement bathroom could use a shower and a new sink that could match the toilet. Nothing extravagant, of course, not that Diana would ever know, avoiding the basement like the plague, but still, something. 

It was his new little side project to help curb the urge to hold a beer in his hand. It was slow going, and he’d already slipped a few times the past year, but Diana was a relentless sponsor, and she took her job seriously. It was partly why he loved being with the Wilsons, and partly why he hated it. But it wasn’t just about him, and he knew that, but  _ man -  _ the wardens in the jails he’s been in have been nicer. 

Every morning she could manage, she would wake up at five am, grabbing him and dragging his ass out of bed for a smoothie with more vegetables in it than he’d normally eat in a week, a short run around the property right after. He’d puked the first few times, still hungover as hell on his first day of detox, and Diana was right there, rubbing at his back, offering him a water, and telling him to get his ass in gear. It was torture, but it became a regular thing, and he got better. He made it a week, the chip feeling far heavier than it was. He had hoped to feel something,  _ anything _ , but all he felt was exhaustion and the call of a pint. But he sat with her and skipped stones along the water instead of hitting a bar in celebration. The anticipation of getting his one month chip was harder, but he barely noticed when he earned his six month chip three weeks ago. He hadn’t even noticed the little pudge on his tummy was smaller, his arms stronger, his knees a little less sore. Maybe it was the vegetables too, but he definitely felt more confident but also a little lighter, not in weight, but in life. 

She reminded him to fill his time with distractions whenever he felt the need to drink, to supplement that feeling of the cool bottle condensating on his hand with soda or water. Dean got desperate sometimes and would resort to making iced tea just for a cold drink. Coffee too, lots of coffee. Coffee and root beer and iced tea and fixing showers and digging in the garden and- and some days it wasn’t enough. Some days he wanted to stop feeling. Stop feeling the grief still eating away at him, the feeling that he was wrong, he hadn’t seen Castiel die, that it was all a dream. Yes, he was dreaming, and the only way to wake up was drink, and drink, and drink, and-

He shook his head, the nagging voice in his head demanding he get wasted, trying to redirect his thoughts like Lynn had taught him as he tightened the wrench. He sighed, mutterin the mantra under his breath. “You are not your addiction. You are more than your past actions, and you can change your path blah blah blah.” He closed his eyes, dread washing over him. “What if I can’t change?” He shook his head, imagining his brother and the rest of his family lighting his pyre, Jack finding him dead of alcohol poisoning in the impala, the horror on the kid’s face a reminder to keep going, to take care of himself. He sighed, and went back to work. 

The bathroom in the basement finally had a working toilet and sink, and if he could just get the shower working, he could avoid a mutiny on his hands every time someone needed to bathe. Six adults and one bathroom - no one’s idea of a vacation. 

Covered in filth, he flicked on the water and with a small groan, the shower head roared to life. The hot water pounding from it sent Dean’s fist up in the air in victory. 

“ **Dean** !” Susan’s voice boomed like a gunshot through the house. “Can you come to the kitchen  _ pleeeeeeease _ ?”

He sighed, shutting the water off. “Coming!” Pulling the toolbox off the toilet, he left the bathroom. He gave up on the thought of carrying it up the stairs and dropped it on the closest metal chair he could find. The stairs no longer creaked as he walked up them, but his knees did. He could hear Susan’s voice in his head telling him  **_it’s cause you don’t take it easy Dean_ ** **.** “Maybe I don’t want to take it easy,” he mumbled to himself as he pushed open the door. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said loudly, hoping Susan heard him. 

He barely had one foot in the doorway before the singing started. “ _ Happy Birthday to yooooou _ !” He looked around to see Diana and Susan flanked each side of Eileen at the table, Lynn standing with Penelope on her hip, bouncing in place. “ _ Happy Birthday to yooooou! _ ” Sam turned from facing to counter to show a rather tall, lopsided cake with an absurd amount of candles littering the top. “ _ Happy birthday dear DEEEEEEEEEAAN! _ ”  Jack belted out his name.  _ “Happy Birthday... tooooo yooooouuuu! _ ” Sam brought the cake to his face to blow out the candles, Dean noticing the lines around his brother’s eyes were more pronounced than he’d ever noticed before. He hoped his own face didn’t show his age as well. 

“Make a wish dude.” Sam pushed the cake closer to his brother’s face, Dean chuckling at the thought of making an honest wish. He had everything he could ask for.  **_Not everything_ ** _ ,  _ he thought.  **_Not everyone_ ** _.  _ He closed his eyes obediently, taking a deep breath and blowing out the candles with a huge gust. Clapping a whooping sounds of happiness broke out amongst the group. 

“Thanks guys, I just- you didn’t have to.” He mumbled. 

Susan laughed. “No duh! But we  _ chose _ to, so shuddup and eat it.”

“But why cake? I’m a pie man.”

Diana and Sam chorkled. “It’s not cake.” Diana smirked at him as she passed him a knife. He raised an eyebrow but took the knife and cut into the dessert dutifully. Pulling a piece out to place it onto the offered plate from Sam, Dean started to laugh. Inside were two pies stacked one on top the other, connected with a smear of icing. Dean didn’t get a cake for his birthday, he got a pie-cake. 

“Where did you…?”

“Diana made it.”

He turned to her incredulously. “Diana, you bake?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “It’s like making a bomb. You measure the ingredients, put it all together and in the end you get to eat it instead of blowing it up.” She shrugged. “Plus I don’t usually like how they make pie for the stores - never enough crust. Jack was a great help, actually. He’s got a knack for baking.”

He looked to Jack, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, startling the kid but drawing a smile from him anyways. “Thanks kid. Looks great.” Jack nodded his thanks, tentatively patting Dean on the back. 

They took their pieces to the living room, catching up with the latest Dr. Sexy episodes they’d yet to watch, Eileen sitting next to Dean as he tried to fill her in on the characters’ backstories as they came on screen. His signing had gotten better - Lynn and Susan were good teachers - but still stumbled over a few gestures, making Eileen chuckle in the process. 

The daylight ran out far too quickly, the short days of the winter sweeping night in like a blanket of velvet over the world. The snow hadn’t fallen all day, the remainder of what had stuck shimmering in the moonlight. Penelope had fallen asleep in Lynn’s lap, thumb stuck in her mouth and a line of drool trailing onto her aunt’s blouse. Dean thought the night was over, but was startled from his thoughts when a box and gift bag were dropped on his lap. 

Diana stood in front of him, motioning to open it. “What?” 

She huffed, annoyed. “Its a gift. Open it.” 

He looked at the rest of the adults, trying to gauge their reactions but coming up with nothing. Shrugging, he dug into the green tissue paper in the gift bag, pulling out a mug. It was fairly heavy, definitely high quality ceramic. The side he was looking at was blank, white glaze shining in the low lamp light. Turning it over he couldn’t help but laugh, belly shaking and tears rolling down his eyes without his permission. In big bold black lettering,  **_I killed Hitler_ ** with a crude caricature of his face underneath made the mug. He tipped it to the side, a bit of tissue stuck inside. He pulled it out carefully to reveal a watch. It wasn’t anything special, plain but modern and sleek. The underside had an engraving on it. He reached behind him to turn on the lamp and brought the watch close to his face.  _ SW & EL with love to DW. Who killed Hitler.  _ The text was small, the engraver probably very confused at the long inscription. “Thanks guys, I love it.” He turned to give Eileen a hug, winking at Sam over her shoulder. He knew the intention of their initials on his watch and hoped that soon Eileen’s last name would change as well. 

“Hey! How come  _ he  _ gets a mug for killing Hitler, but I invent a thing that shot Lucifer out of the president and I never got one?” 

Susan tsked angrily at her sister ruining the moment. “What would it even say Diana? ‘ _ I invented the thing that was supposed to turn werewolves back into their former human selves and it was stolen off me by the asshats, the British Men Of Letters instead and they used it to shoot Lucifer out of his vessel - the president of the United States _ ’?”

“Yeah, and underneath that: ‘ _ and all I got was this lousy mug _ ’!”

Susan hurtled a pillow at her head, hitting her sister square in the face. 

Jack thrust a small wrapped package into his hands, clearly wrapped by someone in the mall, edges to crisp and clean. He opened it very carefully, surprised when he saw himself smiling back at him. Inside, a simple picture frame, heavy, the picture inside of the day penelope was born. He was holding her carefully, her tiny fist gripping at his finger, Jack standing over them, smiling too. It was in some cheesy black and white filter, clearly taken by Sam or Lynn on their phones, Dean completely forgetting there were other people around. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he looked up at the cautious Nephilim. “Do… do you like it?” 

Dean wiped at his eyes, laughing bittersweetly. “Yeah, yeah I do. It’s- damn. It’s great. Thanks Jack.” He pulled him into a quick, crushing hug, trying hard to even out his breathing. A cool and pleasant tingling filled his body, a warth following after, Jack’s grace washing over him in comfort. 

He moved onto the box, pulling the card off from the top. It was a Penelope original, her tiny handprint repeating in various colours. She was too young for actual paint so jam was her favourite medium, the texture of the seeds on the card making it the best piece of her art he currently owned. Gently opening the box, he exclaimed happily at seeing the small stack of t-shirts inside. “You guys!” He pulled out the top shirt, unfolding it to marvel at the soft material. He laughed when he came across a Ghostbusters shirt. One of the Wilsons has ironed on some letters crookedly to read  _ Who ya gonna call? Me.  _ He pulled the shirt overtop his current one, digging his phone out to take a selfie of himself in it. 

Diana pulled the phone from his grasp, mounting it on a selfie stick and motioning everyone to gather for a picture. Dean’s smile was genuine for the first time in years in that photo - right after his scowl at the fact that Diana actually  _ owned _ a selfie stick. He fell asleep that night with Brutus on the foot of his bed, and a warm feeling in his chest. 

 

\----------------

 

“Did mommy forget her lunch? Yes she did, yes she did!” Dean would kill anyone who made fun of his baby talking if they caught him. Pep however, would be worth it if only for her squeals of joy when he got her out of the car seat. She loved driving in the Impala, but the old muscle car just couldn't hold her car seat, so he resigned to just take Lynn's tiny electric car. Lynn and Susan both got matching used electric cars when Penelope was born that probably cost a small fortune anyways, but the drive was far smoother than his own, so he could see the appeal. Though he was lucky that Diana also felt his same sentiment at seeing them when they first arrived. 

“Are you  _ kidding me?!” _ She looked almost hysterical with the tiny baby in her arms. Trying to yell at her wife and sister with a sleeping infant was apparently a skill no one expected her to have. “Those things must have cost as much as this house! I can't believe you guys bought them without talking to me about it first! I swear to- they're so small! You can't even fit a body in the trunk!”

“That's kinda the point.” Susan retorted and that had been that. Diana still grumbled every so often, but she had ultimately let it drop. There was no gas associated cost, insurance was reasonable, and if it meant her family was happy, then so be it. 

Dean picked up Penelope and held her on his hip one handed as he shut the door with the other. She gripped both tiny fists and rubbed her entire face all over his flannel shirt, no doubt leaving snot in its place. “That was a clean shirt! Yes it was, yes it was!” He continued his baby talk and she patted him on the shoulder as if to ask him to continue. 

He had very little idea as to where he was supposed to go to get to the ER, but after a few minutes, he realized she was pulling on his shirt when he went the opposite way. He thought  _ maybe she's trying to point me in the right direction, _ which was silly considering she wasn't talking in full words yet, so her being able to navigate through a hospital would be ridiculous. But he followed her pulls on his shirt and they quickly found Susan at the nurses station in emergent care. Before he had a chance to open his mouth, three nurses flanked him. 

“Oh hey there cutie!” The oldest nurse said, grabbing ’s hand and shaking it gently with her finger. “What are you doing here?”

“She's so precious! Awe!” The tall male nurse said, holding his hands near his face to hide his giant grin. 

“Sir, if she needs emergent care, you're going to have to sign her in at the front-” the last nurse was clearly an intern, face so young and fresh. But she was cut off but Pep's loud babble. 

“I'm sorry, I'm just here to drop off lunch for her mom. Nurse Wilson?”

The oldest nurse made a move to pick up  from his arms, but she decided on not being held by anyone other than her uncle and she held fast onto his flannel, dropping the elder’s finger in the process. “Charge nurse Wilson is over there.” 

Susan smiled at them and reached out to grab Penelope, peppering her face with kisses. “Oh aren't you just a sight for sore eyes?” She sighed as she placed Pep in her lap and listened to her babble again. “Thanks Dean, although she probably shouldn't be around here during flu season.” 

“I know, but Diana was passed out and I couldn't wake her, so I figured it would be better to bring her than to leave her.” He placed the lunch bag down on the one sliver of counter not full of papers and leaned on the desk. Susan nodded and he continued. “Besides, I think someone missed her mommy.” 

Susan chuckled as a patient approached the desk. “Aww, how cute! A happy little family!” The sentiment was sweet but soon turned into malice. “I've been waiting here for six hours to see a doctor, but please, please continue with happy hour instead of  _ doing your job!”  _

Dean opened his mouth to tell her off but Susan was far faster. “Mrs. Donaldson, you have been here for only three hours, and like I said, we're short staffed today, but your labs have come back and they all look normal. The doctor has already seen you to get a history on you and will be back as soon as she's done with stitching up her current patient, who has a far more urgent injury to treat than your wrist. I understand it's frustrating but I can assure you that we're doing all we can. And I'm only saying hello to my child as her uncle brought her in to bring me my lunch and a sweet face to get me through the day. You have children, don't you Mrs. Donaldson? I saw one earlier, and I think if you worked long hours with a lot of screaming in your face, puke and blood on your clothes, coming home and instantly passing out, I think seeing your child in the middle of the day for a few minutes would be something you'd savour. Am I right?”

The patient scowled and huffed as she turned away and walked back to her room. Dean looked at Susan with awe and a giant grin on his face but she didn't look at him. She was rubbing her face with baby's, trying to breath in enough baby smell to get her through the day. She inhaled Pep’s shampoo smell from her head for a few more minutes, having to let her go far too soon as a patient seized. 

Dean hid the scene from her little eyes, Susan shooing them away from the scene. 

Lynn's office was on the second floor, tucked away in a little corner of the hospital beyond which the adult mental health ward lay. Despite the colourful paintings on the wall and patient made mosaics, this part of the hospital had an ominous and scary feel to it. At first, he thought maybe there had been a haunting, but quickly remembered that mental wards for him were always just scary in their own right. He thought maybe he should have just had her paged down when the main door opened and she stepped out holding her wallet. 

“Oh! Dean, hello.” She was surprised to see him but her face turned to glee when she saw  Penelope making grabby hands at her aunt. “Hello my little sunflower! What are you doing all the way up here?” She took the baby from his hands and bounced her gently. 

“You and Susan forgot your lunches so  Pep  _ insisted  _ we come bring them to you. She said she was in need of an adventure.” 

Lynn chuckled. “She did, did she? Well, then we’ll just have to have an adventure than, shall we?” She walked them to the cafeteria and bought Dean a bowl of soup. She had him get some formula from the pharmacy and they all sat down to eat together. Lynn talked about how Susan usually joined her but the hospital was short staffed today. 

“One of the hospitals a few towns over had to shut down. They found asbestos in the ceiling and they all had to be transferred here this week. It's been organized chaos here, so Susan’s barely left her desk to even eat lunch with me. Not that I have a lot of free time anyways. The mental ward is full for the first time since- well, since it opened. It's been… a challenge.”

“But you like the challenge though.” Dean blowed on his soup, attempting to cool it so he didn't burn his tongue. Again. 

“Yeah, I guess I do. But still, I wish we were better equipped to handle all this overflow. We just got a new MRI last year, so the hospital budget for additional staff is very tight. I hope the board meets with the other hospital and gets them to get their asses into gear to get us some of their doctors and nurses.”

Dean nodded along to Lynn as she talked. She had so many patients between herself and the other doctor on duty that she rarely left the office. She and Susan normally met twice a day. There was apparently a courtyard in the middle of the hospital with a beautiful garden, but it was too cold to sit for a coffee there at this time of year. Lynn went on and on about the hospital, but he didn't mind. He wasn't a patient here, and neither was Sam, so it felt just like regular office banter. 

He walked her back to her office and she gave Penelope one final kiss before a gruff voice behind Dean speak.

“Doctor Wilson? I'm here for my one o’clock.”

Dean’s blood froze in his veins. He slowly turned around and met the blue eyes he'd been dreaming about for years. 

“Oh yes, of course John. You can go on in. I'm just saying goodbye to my niece.” She sounded so calm and comforting, as if Dean’s entire world wasn't crumbling all around him. 

He nodded and made his way into the room, looking back once at Dean with a look of confusion on his face. The door closed behind him and Dean turned to Lynn sharply. 

“Who's that?” 

“Oh, one of the John Does the other hospital transferred a few days ago. There were quite a few.”

“That-” Dean’s jaw clicked shut, his chest felt like it was going to explode and jump out of his chest several feet away. The blood in his head rushed faster, the sound seeming to echo in his ears. He didn't realize he was on the ground until Lynn was shaking him. 

“Dean! What's wrong? You're safe here, you're safe. It's just me and Pep, you're safe.” She placed Penelope into his lap as if to punctuate the point and he shook his head, dislodging the cobwebs there. 

“That's Cas-” he choked out. His eyes were filling with water, threatening to spill over. “He’s- its- I can't-  _ Cas _ .” He hung his head, closing his eyes, fighting to keep from crying. 

A soft “oh” fell from Lynn’s lips as she managed to piece everything together. After a few moments, she took Pep and offered Dean a hand up. 

“Go home. Take Pep to the daycare downstairs by the parking garage past the gift shop, and go home. Watch a movie, take a nap, whatever. I'll be there at 5 and we can talk about it in my home office, okay? Leave the car and take a cab, I don’t want you driving right now. Okay?” The hand resting on his shoulder was warm. He didn't want to leave this bubble of warmth, but he definitely wanted to be anywhere but here at the same time. All he could do was nod dumbly before taking a card from Lynn's wallet and following her directions. 

He dropped Penelope off at daycare, not even registering the person who took her, and went to the main entrance, grabbing a cab that just dropped off a fare. He prattled off the address and within a blink, he was home.  **_Home_ ** , he thought.  **_When did the Wilson’s house become my home?_ **

It felt silly. His home was with Sam at the bunker, but after everything that happened there, it didn't feel like home anymore. 

Diana was thankfully still asleep when he got through the front door. He slipped into Lynn's office and closed the door quietly, pulling his phone out to call Sam. He sat in his usual spot on the couch and felt his heart race as the phone rang. 

“Hey Dean! Eileen and I are just at the farmers market. When do you think you'll be home by, cuz there's this pie here we were thinking about getting, and-”

“Cas”. He breathed out. The tears came easily now, there was no way to fight them. 

“What?” Sam’s voice cracked, but because of the connection or of its own accord was lost on Dean. 

“Cas, he- I went to get Susan and Lynn their lunches at the hospital and he- there was a transfer- he looks- GOD! Sammy, I-” he laid down on the couch, pulling a pillow to his chest. “I just- I can't-”

“Dean, Dean, slow down. You think you saw Cas-”

“No!” He tried not shouting, but the word felt ripped away from his mouth without permission. “I don't  _ think _ I saw him. I  _ know  _ I saw him. It was  _ him,  _ Sammy. It- he’s a John Doe, so that means that he has amnesia. I just- I can't believe it, but it's true. He looked at me, but it wasn't like he knew, but he looked like he thought he knew but wasn't sure if he knew, you know?”

“No, I- not really Dean. But Dean,  _ we saw him- _ ” 

“I know what we saw!” This yell ripped from his throat far more painfully than the last. He started sobbing openly then. “It's him Sam, it's really him.” He buried his face in the cushion, half embarrassed and half wanting to get swallowed up by the soft fabric. 

“It's going to- I want to say it's going to be okay, but I don't know that for sure.” Sam replied, his own breath shaking. “But Lynn knows what she's doing and we're going to get through this together. I'm going to make a schedule with Eileen and Lynn, and we'll figure out a visiting schedule and we'll make it work. It's going to work out, okay? Is Pep with you?”

“No. She's- I dropped her at the hospital day care.” 

“Okay. Go take a nap then. I'll call Diana and Susan as soon as we're back from the market. We'll make it work.”

“Okay.” He felt himself calm down drastically. “I love you bitch.”

Sam’s broken chuckle filtered through the phone. “Love you too, jerk.”

He shut off the phone, letting it drop to the floor, sobbing and gasping into the cushion until sleep took him. 

 

_ Joy lit up his face, the devil was gone. Gone! He was stuck in another world, far from them. Deam felt like he could breathe again. He smiled, about to say as much to Castiel, the look of relief on the angel’s face palpable. _

_ And then an angel’s sword pierced him straight through his heart, poking through the other side of his chest.  _

_ “NO!” he dove forwards, but as too late. Castiel’s wings burnt into the sand and sparse patches of grass trying desperately to grow in an otherwise inhospitable environment.  _

_ Before he could blink, his mother started punching Lucifer in the face, over and over agan, Enchonian brass knuckles breaking the skin and shattering bone. He tripped, right into the rift, dragging Mary with him, the light flickering and gone as suddenly as they had slipped through.  _

_ Sam ran towards the house, Kelly’s pained screams ripping through the dead air.  _

_ He was alone, kneeling at Castiel’s corpse.  _

_ Couldn’t move _

_ Couldn’t breathe.  _

_ Couldn’t cry or shout or beg or pray. _

_ He was numb. _

 

Dean awoke gasping for air, choking in it as his heart raced. It may have just been a dream, but the reality was that it had already happened. Castiel. Being stabbed in the chest. His wings burnt into the grass bellow him. Dead. 

Dean let out a choked sob, feeling like a wounded animal as he shook. The door to the office burst open to show Diana illuminated in the hall light on the other side and holding a shotgun. As soon as her eyes fell onto him, she leaned the gun on the door and moved quickly to the couch. She wrapped him in a hug without saying anything, her arms tight in the best way, his head automatically tucking itself into the crook of her shoulder. He looked up to see Lynn also in the doorway. Of course they heard, they were probably in the kitchen or watching tv in the living room not twelve feet away. Dean would have felt embarrassed if it weren't for the fact that Diana started to hum. 

It was too quiet at first, barely noticeable. But then she started singing lightly to some Elton John ballad he hadn't listened to since he was a teen. Lynn disappeared for a bit as they embraced and brought a snack and some pills. He gladly took them, not bothering to ask what they were, and ate the food as Diana finally released him. They helped him up to his bedroom, Diana a constant at his side. As he lay back down, Diana carded her fingers through his hair as she sung. 

 

_ “I know that it's funny  _

_ This feeling inside _

_ I'm not one of those who can, _

_ Easily hide.” _

  
  


He drifted into a dreamless sleep. 

 

In the morning, the kitchen was filled with hushed chatter, though there wasn't many there anyways. Dean sneaked past Pep playing in the living room with Brutus wrapped around her, and leaned just outside of eyeshot at the kitchen opening. Sam and Eileen had managed to make it to the house, maybe sometime when he was sleeping, and they were sitting at the kitchen table with the rest of the adults of the house. They were signing almost every word, mouthing a little for Sam’s benefit and some conversation was so quickly signed that Dean could catch heads or tails of it. But it didn't matter. He knew they were talking about him and about Castiel. 

He peeked at Penelope, seeing that she was still on her tummy and playing with the soft toys they picked up for her last week. When he turned back, he noticed Lynn writing something on a piece of paper, Sam signing clumsily to her. Eileen and Diana were in their own heated conversation, Eileen trying to calm her friend down unsuccessfully. Susan interjected Lynn to take the paper and highlight something and tapping the page several times. Lynn nodded and wrote something else. Dean stood there for a few minutes, watching the exchange before Spartacus decided to lean his giant dog body against his side. 

“Hey Dean.” He turned. “Coffee?” Diana was already halfway standing when he shook his head. “Okay. Want to come sit then? We're just making a schedule to visit Castiel.” 

“Oh. Um, sure.” Diana gave him her seat and went to the dining room to pull out a chair for herself. She looked tired herself, probably not getting much sleep after last night. He felt guilty, until her hand landed on his shoulder, gently patting it with a warm smile on her face. 

He turned towards Sam who signed at him.  _ We don't want to disturb Pep.  _ They had apparently given Penelope her own shorthand name sign while he was out.  _ She's been in a bad mood all morning.  _

_ She didn't like that I wouldn't pick her up.  _ Signed Eileen, face guilty.  _ I pulled a muscle trying to keep up with Sam at the gym. Big mistake.  _

Dean smirked at Eileen knowing all too well that Sam would wipe the floor clean with any of them. He tried keeping up with the conversations but he missed half of what was being signed at him. He had to admit he wasn't paying much attention to the YouTube video playlist Diana had set up for him, but thankfully, Diana caught up and whispered most of her words with him to help. 

After a good hour of snacking and schedule making, Penelope walked into the kitchen, holding onto Brutus and Spartacus as she wondered in. 

“Oh my  _ GOD! SUZ _ !” Lynn's shout startling them all. 

“What Lynn? You know you have to sign when Eileen is here! What's so damn-” Sam used his hands to turn her head to show that behind her, her daughter was taking her very first steps. She had crawled before, all over the house and even once made it to the backyard flower bed before Eileen had scooped her up. But on two legs? This was a first. 

Diana wasted no time grabbing her phone and nearly tripping herself twice to get a good angle. “Pep! Look at you go! Go see mommy, where's mommy?” 

Penelope squealed at the baby voice her aunt was giving her, and she clearly was loving all the attention she was getting. She looked to her mother who slipped out of her chair to kneel next to it. “Come on Pep! Come to mama!”

Everyone at the table was now encouraging the toddler and she shook her little fists as she held onto the dogs’ fur and they moved slowly forward. At the last second, she let go of them to take two stumbling steps and falling into her mother’s embrace. The cheering in the kitchen that day would have put every baseball game to shame. 

“Look at you!” Susan stood holding Pep in one arm as her baby squealed happily yet again. She signed with her one free hand as she spoke. “Your first steps! Yay!” 

Everyone yayyed back and Penelope threw her tiny fists into the air in triumph. Dean slipped his phone out of his pocket to get a photo. Looking between Penelope and the schedule his family had made for visiting Castiel, Dean felt something heavy in his stomach solidify, his blood feeling the normal temperature it should always be, a breath escaping him in a whoosh. He could do this. He had support, he had the love and support of his family. He could do this. 


	7. Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and the Wilsons getting used to having Castiel around for a year as he tries to piece together which memories are real, and which aren't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I haven't been around kids between the ages of 18 months - five years old for some time, so Penelope's speech patterns may be a bit advanced so... sorry for that, but she's gossipy and talkative like her auntie Di <3

Diana staggered like a newborn deer into the kitchen, leaning heavily on her sister, left arm bandaged with a thick layer of gauze. Dean’s eyebrows shot up, coffee cup dropping heavily on the table in front of him. 

“Hey Lynn? Do you  _ love _ me?” 

Lynn looked up from the oatmeal she’d been making on the stove, confused. “Of course I do Diana” she replied seriously, albeit a bit nasally. She placed both hands on each side of Diana's face and brought her in for a soft kiss on the nose. 

“Ha ha.  _ Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!! _ ” Diana hollered, snorting laughter spewing a bit of spittle onto her wife’s shirt. 

Lynn simply cocked an eyebrow in response, saying nothing of the spit on her chin. “We’re married. We're both women. We're fine. Also, are you drunk?”

“Pffffftttt! No! I've been sobered over six years now, sheesh babe. Am I seen that poorly by all y'all?” 

“Why are you bleeding?” Dean asked, distracting her. 

“Stupid raccoon. It tried going for my zucchini, so I tried to shoo it away, but the  _ little bastard _ got mad. He he. Suz, your hair is all messed up.” She leaned a bit away from her sister to ruffle the bird’s nest atop her head. “Did ya get  _ lucky  _ last night?” 

Susan sighed, a long suffering gust of air leaving her lips. “The only lucky I got was lucky to not be drooled on by Pep last night. Her bed needs fixing.”

“I could fix it.” Dean said, sipping his coffee. “I don't mind doing it. Not like I got a lot going on today. Just show me where the tools are.”

“You sure?” Susan asked, Dean nodded sincerely. “Thanks Dean. I really appreciate it. Now, Diana,” she turned a serious look at her older sister who tried and failed to look like she was still in charge. “You’re going to go to the ER with Lynn, and get some proper stitches cuz we’re all out of suture kits, and a rabies shot.”

“Babies shot?!” Diana looked horrified. “I’m not ready for another baby, Susan! Pep is enough of a handful and, I love her, you know I love her, but-”

“Ray-bies!  _ Rabies _ ! Not babies!” She shook her head and muttered, “the hell is a babies shot?” before composing herself again. “You should also get a booster shot and get some bloodwork done. I'm going to shower and get to work. Someone please watch Penelope when I'm at work.”

“I can do it.” Everyone turned to look at Castiel standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking lost and out of place. It had been a year since they found him, and he moved it a few weeks prior. It was tough having him in the house, awkward and out of place, but it was better than having him in the hospital with strangers who were sometimes violent - much like Castiel’s last roomate who liked stabbing people with ballpoint pens he smuggled into the unit. It was hard on Dean to look at his best friend every day and not have him remember the things they'd done. To have someone who was once so close suddenly become a stranger was a terrifying reality. 

Susan cleared her throat, eyes shifted to Lynn’s a second before turning back to Cas. “Okay. You sure?”

“Yes. I enjoy her company, and Dean will be home in case it gets overwhelming. I was thinking we'd do some reading and maybe play with those blocks of hers. Would that be okay?” 

“Yeah, that- that’d be great.”

“G’doff me!” Diana pushed feebly at Susan with no effect. 

“She's fine. I wrapped it up and gave her something for the pain, but I think it’s expired because it’s making her… weird. She really needs a rabies shot, but I can't even remember- do you remember when she was last vaccinated for it?” Lynn shook her head, sniffling. “Diana. Diana!” Susan gently shook her. “What are you staring at?! Look at me!” She pulled Diana’s face up to look at her, tearing her gaze from Lynn’s bunny slippers, cheeks puffing out like a fish. “When was your last rabies shot?”

“Babies shot? I don't have no babies shot!” Diana mumbled. “Wouldn’t work anyways!” The laugh she let out was garbled with saliva. “I can’t have none since Stan- Stan- you know,  _ Stan!” _

“Ugh!! I know you can understand what I’m saying, you’re just being an ass. Lynn, please take her to the ER so I don’t have to look at her. Can you two hold the fort down until Sam and Eileen get here?” A chorus of affirmation rang out, Lynn stepping forward to grasp Diana's hand in hers. 

Diana reached out to grasp at her wife’s face. “I love you, but you can't- you can't come. You're too sick! You'll catch more sick and be super sick. Like super duper sick!” 

“Okay, okay, let’s go!” Susan huffed, dragging her dead weight older sister to the door. “Lynn will stay home, and I’ll take you. Geez! You’re ridiculous. I guess I’ll shower in the hospital. Get your shoes on. No, on your  _ feet, Di!” _ Dean chuckled as her heard the two sisters shuffle out the door, Diana clearly making it harder on Susan than necessary. 

When the door slammed, Lynn ran to the side window to watch them leave. Once the truck was nothing but a spec, she turned to the adjacent mirror, looking a herself. “I don't look  _ that _ sick, do I?” 

Dean and Castiel shared a look, both cringing at the inevitability of having to lie to their host. “No Lynn.” Castiel took an aborted step forward. “You look fine, but Diana is very overprotective over you. I think you just need.. some tea. Should I make a pot?”  **_Just like Cas,_ ** Dean thought. **_Always fixing other people's mistakes, no matter how small_ ** . 

Lynn nodded, shuffling on her cheap bunny slippers, chewing on her bottom lip. Dean leaned away from where she sat at the large, round table, desperate to not get sick as Castiel puttered around behind him to boil water in the electric kettle. “I like this table,” she said, unprompted, hands running on it’s wooden surface. “Diana and I were on a hunt in Richmond, regular salt and burn, pretty boring, and on the way home, there was an estate sale, so we stopped there, ya know, just ‘cuz.” She shrugged casually. “The guy selling the stuff was pretty homophobic, which was funny cuz we found out that literally  _ every single person _ that showed up to buy stuff  _ was gay. _ ” She snorted a laugh, something Dean hadn’t seen on her face in a while. “So he kicked us all out, and Diana joked, saying ‘I bet you five bucks that the person who died that house comes back to haunt him.’ Which was just… I thought ridiculous, but we were tired, and we parked the truck in the woods to…” she raised her eyebrows in a suggestive manner, smirk playing on her face. “Anyways. We’re just about to fall asleep and the police radio sparks up saying that the resident had called in for backup of a potential break-in. I wanted to win that five bucks, cuz Diana was sure it was a ghost, so we went. And saw the asshat get thrown through the top bedroom window.  _ And _ , guess who threw him?”

Dean pretended to contemplate the thought a moment. “Hmm, maybe the ghost?”

“The ghost of his dead mother.” She snorted. “The cops didn’t believe him, but we helped him anyways, despite his homophovia… homo _ phobia _ , damn I think this fever is getting to me.” She stared at the table top a second, lost in thought. “Anyways. We helped him, and it turns out the mom was abusive and would burn him with cigarettes, hot fireplace pokers, and the like cuz he… get ready for it-”

“Was gay?” Castiel asked.

Lynn snapped her fingers, pointing at him as he brought her a pot of tea with a small cup. “Yep. Closeted for years because of fear of her killing him. When we all came in the house, she flipped. We salted and burned her, and we sat at this very table in his kitchen talking about how the world has changed, and he didn’t have to hide anymore, and let me tell you, the  _ look on his face-!” _ She whistled, but the mucus in her throat made it fall flat. “He spent sixty long years hating himself, hating everything she did to him - he never moved out because she got sick when he was twenty five, maybe twenty six - and he was just…” She shrugged. “Hate breeds hate. We surprisingly spent the whole day with him, and he took us around the town, went to Maymont for a picnic, honestly just… super weird. But at the end of the day, he gave us this table for free, and thanked us for reminding him that the world has changed.” She chuckled. “Andrew went through therapy, he retired last year, went to a home. He’s got a boyfriend there now, and they send us the most  _ ridiculous _ selfies.” She chuckled, sipping her tea. “It’s dumb, this table. This table is over a hundred years old, and it was made  _ by hand _ and there’s still the burn marks from cigarettes and scratches from knives she stabbed in here, and this one hot water stain from when Susan spilled the pasta pot, and it should sit in a thrift store, or maybe a museum, and it sits in here. A haunted table from a haunted house into a new house that used to be a haunted church. Dumb. Dumb and haunted. But I love it. It has history.” Her eyes became unfixed, hand rubbing over the scars in the wood from years of abuse.

Dean cleared his throat. “Your family made all their own furniture, right?” She nodded. “Maybe that’s why it matters, too. You miss them. You miss parts of that life, even though…” He looked at Cas, something unrecognizable in his eyes. “Even though a lot of it sucked. It reminds you of them.”

She nodded, downing the rest of her cup, pulling the pot into her opposite hand. Standing, she declared, “You’re right. I’m going to take this upstairs and hide from y’all so you don’t catch this, and I’m gonna call Faith. Ask her how she’s been.” A soft, fond look fell on her face. “Thanks guys. For the tea and for listening. Diana doesn’t get it. She sees the good tainted by the pain and can’t… can’t see the good bits on their own.” Nodded once, she left the room, a hush falling over the two adults left.

Cas poked at a water stain on the table, unsure look in his eyes. “It’s just a table,” he muttered.

“Mmm. But things have meaning beyond what they actually are, ya know? To her, it means more.”

Cas nodded. “I guess.” 

 

————

 

Eileen and Sam didn’t show that day, unfortunately. There was a huge issue with the bunker’s air system, and they had to spend most of the next three days getting it fixed. Not that Lynn noticed in her feverish state, only upset that Diana has her quarantined in their room as she slept in the guest room with the door locked. Susan took pity on her sister-in-law for about two hours before locking her in the room herself. 

“She has a bathroom and I’ve left snacks and water. She’ll be fine.” 

Turns out Lynn was a big whiny baby when she was sick. A thing Dean himself had to deal with as her texting for something other than crackers became almost none stop. He made her soup once, delivered it to her as she swayed in the bed, and promptly vamoosed out of there the second he could. Lynn was a great person, but sick? She didn’t cover her face when she sneezed, spewing germs everywhere and whining about how she now had a shirt full of snot. Dean contemplated turning his phone off to keep her from texting him so much, but ended up deciding on retiring to the garage instead. 

There were many parts of the house that were meant for everyone. The kitchen was where everyone spent their mornings, sipping tea and coffee, someone trying to convince Penelope to eat her food without spitting it out on the table, paper rustling as someone else tried to finish a crossword. The living room was where evenings were spent, Pep clinging like a koala bear to anyone who would let her sit on their lap as they watched late night television, chatting about the day and stupid stories that had to be watered down for Pep’s ears. The garden was one of Dean's favourite unclaimed spaces. However, working in the detached garage that Diana had claimed as her own workspace was one he relished spending time in the most. 

Diana wasn't a world class mechanic, but she had enough tools to fix almost any issue - car or house. Dean found it therapeutic to organize her messy system of spare parts and supplies strewn about on every conceivable surface. She had a peg board just waiting to be used, but had given up on it after an incredibly awful hunt. So Dean took it upon himself to clean and organize it for her. There was no ulterior motive, no reason why he'd rather spend hours cleaning each wrench, every screw and place each knut in the right place. Definitely not a six foot reason who was living in the same house, drinking all the orange juice, and sitting at the breakfast table too close to Dean every morning. 

The paint stir stick in Dean's hands broke in two, splinters poking in his skin as he dropped it to the floor. “I'm so stupid.” He chastised himself, failing to pull the splinters from his hands in the fluorescent lights. “This is stupid. I’m just…” he breathed in heavily through his nose. “I got this. Lynn said if it’s too much -  _ Sam  _ said if it’s too much, they’ll step in. I’m okay, it’s okay. I’m okay.” 

Staring angrily at the splinters still sticking out of his palm, he scowled and swiped the first aid kit off the bench. He had to do something else with his hands. He needed to fix something,  _ anything _ . Penelope’s bed had been a total bust earlier in the week, and they’d just resigned themselves into buying a new one. He’d taken the truck with Susan the day after Diana’s raccoon incident to the closest IKEA, and the boxes still sat in the room, unassembled.  **_Might as well just go put it together_ ** , he thought. Dean liked working with his hands. He had to just remind himself why. 

Cleaned and splinter free, he grabbed the drill and the necessary bits, closing the door behind him as he shuffled towards the house to put together Penelope’s new Swedish monstrosity of a bed. 

It was a simple enough build, shame it had so many tiny working parts though. He’d had to start the assembly in a spare room to keep Pep away from trying to eat one of the tiny screws, boy, would  _ that  _ just be the sight Susan needed to see as she finished her double at the ER. 

“You're really good at that.” Dean hit his head on the bottom of Pep’s bed in surprise. He quickly pulled himself out to find Castiel staring at him from the doorway, pajamas still on, now with a pink boa around his neck. “Are you okay? You hit your head pretty hard.” Dean didn't move as Castiel crouched low. His thin fingers ran over the top of Dean’s scalp, looking for injuries and causing Dean's heart to stutter in its tempo. “No bleeding. Do you need an ice pack? How's your vision? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Cas! It's fine. I'm fine. You just startled me. Make some noise with your feet when you walk, okay?”

The tiny smile he got back was just too adorable to comprehend. “Okay. Penelope has invited us to a tea party. Would you like to attend?”

He raised an eyebrow.  “Do I have to wear a boa too? Or can I just come as is?” 

“You'll have to put something on from the toy chest, but I saw a top hat that might suit you better.”

Dean grunted, looking at the half made bed forlornly. “I should… probably finish this.”

“I can help after. She seems very impatient.”

“Of course she does,” he chuckled. Penelope may have her mother’s features, but she definitely had her aunt Diana’s temperance. He nodded along, dusting off his jeans as he stood, letting Castiel lead the way. 

Penelope was a very gracious host. She and Castiel had decorated her side of the room she currently shared with Susan with paper streamers and construction paper cutouts of what Dean assumed were poorly cut fruits. She set up the table herself and Castiel said she even got the tea herself. The tea of course was just Ginger Ale, but the tiny finger sandwiches were made with actual bread and sliced meat so no one said anything. 

“Dean, would you like more tea?” Cas looked ridiculous with the boa on, Penelope adding on a plastic tiara that sat crooked on top of his bed head. It took every ounce of willpower not to laugh. He didn't have much right to with the elbow length satin gloves Penelope insisted he put on so they could match. He only nodded and extended his cup for refilling. 

“Now!” Penelope threw her hands up, pearl bracelet almost falling from her thin wrist. “Unca Dean, We talk about your day.”

The two year old had picked up enough words to start sentences a few months ago, and now she was starting to put her entire family to shame in gossiping. “Oh, Lady Penelope, but then what will we talk about after dinner?”

“Now!” She demanded with a pout. 

The slam of the front door saved him from Penelope's demands. “Thank God. Oh, sorry Lady Penelope, but there's someone at the door. May I leave to announce them?” 

She sighed loudly and dramatically, putting her auntie Di to shame. “Otay” 

Dean pushed himself up from the tiny table, joints protesting as he put his body into a more mobile and less excruciating position. He barely made it down the stairs before being greeted with all 6’3” of happy puppy younger brother. “Oof! Sam?” 

“Dean!” Sam pulled back just enough fro look his brother in the eye. “I have a huge favour to ask you, and just to be clear, I am not under  _ any  _ influence this time, and it won't be for at least another six months because we all  _ know  _ that Susan is going to want to micromanage the  _ entire  _ thing, but-” 

“Sam! Slow the hell down! What are you talking about?” 

He breathed in deeply as he let Dean go. “Dean. Would you be my best man?” 

He must have made a comical sight. Standing stock still on the stairs in front of a thrift store sunflower painting, wearing long green satin gloves that matched his plaid and a crushed velvet top hat, eyes bugging from his head with his mouth ajar, staring at his baby brother. “Wha- what?” He pushed Sam gently out of the way to look down at Eileen at the foot of the stairs, smiling and holding up her left hand to show the ring sitting there. “Holy- oh.” He bounced his eyes from Sam to Eileen and back again. 

Sam started shuffling from foot to foot in the silence. “Dude, say something.”

“HOLY SHIT! I’M GONNA BE A BEST MAN!!” He screamed, startling Sam and making the dogs go on a barking frenzy. He grabbed his brother in a tight hug, laughing so hard they almost lost their footing on the stairs. He let go and bounded down to the bottom of the stairs and lifted Eileen into a bigger hug, her raspy laughter filling his ears. 

“What happened!” Cas emerged at the top of the stairs holding Susan's baseball bat. “I heard screaming.”

“Cas!” Sam took the stairs two at a time to wrap his friend in a hug. “I'm getting married!” 

Castiel stood stock still in Sam’s embrace, completely thrown for a moment before hugging back. “That’s wonderful, Sam.” Dean looked at the conflict in his eyes, trying to ease the other man’s pain with a smile and a thumbs up. It must have done something as his features calmed, a hand gently patting Sam on the back twice. 

“Hey!” A little voice rang upstairs, four sets of eyes slowly coming to see Penelope in her princess gown, arms on her hips at the top of the stairs. “You were a’posed to bring them!”

Dean shook his head. “You’re right, Lady Penelope. I got distracted. Do you want to come downstairs?”

She thought it a moment before nodding, tiny hands stretching forward to be picked up. “Unca Sam! Up!” Sam laughed, letting go of Cas to walk up at swoop his niece up in one long arch. She giggled in utter delight at her new four foot growth. “Tall!”

“Yep! Tall!” Sam blew a raspberry into her cheek. 

She squealed in delight, always happy for the attention she got from her family. “Why you yelling?” 

Sam gently brushed some hair from his niece’s face, smiling at her genuinely. “I asked Auntie Eileen to marry me, and she said yes.” 

Penelope squealed in joy, wiggling in his arms as she hugged his neck. Dean looked over to Eileen, her own smile broad on her face. 

“Guess I’m gonna have a sister after all, huh?” He signed. 

She huffed. “Yeah, guess having you for a brother-in-law is something I’ll just have to live with.” They stared at each other for a second before sharing a laugh. “It was very sweet. We took drive to Chicago, and we saw a play. And then at dinner, he tried to put the ring in my wine glass, but I caught him mid-way through.” They chuckled Sam turning to give them an unamused face. “I just put my hand out, palm up, and asked him ‘you don’t expect me to put on a wet ring, are you?’ He wouldn’t look me in the eye.” 

Dean laughed, holding onto Eileen’s shoulder as he doubled over. He looked to Cas, happy to see an amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Then he asked you, right?” 

She nodded. “Yes. I told him I wouldn’t picture being with anyone else.” 

Penelope struggled against Sam, scrambling down the stairs to Eileen, hastily signing the word ‘happy’ over and over again. Eileen lifted her up, kissing her niece’s face. “So happy! Wedding! Wedding! Wedding!” 

 

————————-

 

It was several hours later when Lynn and Susan came back from work, Lynn no longer contagious. Diana had gone several towns over to meet with a hunter client, delivering some kind of wendigo bullet she’d designed. She’d been making more humane weapons for certain monsters, trying to rehabilitate a lot of them with Lynn’s guidance, but some weapons had become deadly forces that Dean himself become terrified over. It meant Diana could make money for her family, and though it made her conflicted and reminder her of her army days, she did what she could to keep food on the table. 

Dean offered often to take on odd jobs to help out, but Diana and Susan both denied his offer. Susan reminded him that he helped a lot with repairs and cooking, and he made a commitment to Castiel, and working would take away from that. He agreed, her reasons were sound. But it didn’t make him feel any better, especially when the light in the little workshop of the garage was on all through the night, Diana tinkering with things instead of sleeping. 

Dinner was already on the table when Diana shuffled her feet into the kitchen, Lynn and Susan already waiting for her along with every other adult in the house. “Where's Pep?” 

“Play date. Eileen, just tell us already! What the hell is going on?” Susan's signing was atrocious, fingers stiff from taking blood all day and frustrated at her friend keeping something from her. 

Eileen just raised both eyebrows like a cartoon villain before lifting up her left hand for them to see. 

“Oh that's a really nice manicu- OH MY GOD!” Susan gripped Lynn's arm tightly. 

“Ow! Susan!”

Susan’s eyes bugged out of her head, mouth flapping open and shut in surprise. “Oh my GOD. HOLY FUCK NUTS! Oh. My. GOD!”

“Woah, woah, woah. Is that? Are you guys… I swear to God-” Diana waggled her fingers in front of their faces. “If you two got married and we weren't there-” 

“We’re  _ engaged _ Diana.” Eileen muttered, rubbing her fingers on her jeans. “I couldn't very well get married without my family being there.” 

Diana started to cry, big fat crocodile tears sliding down her face. Dean barely noticed, watching Castiel slip out quietly of the room. “You've never called us your family before.”

“It's always been implied!” Eileen threw her hands up in frustration. 

The two women argued back and forth a spell, Dean waiting for the perfect moment to slip out of the room himself. 

Dean followed Cas to the front porch, closing the door against the chilly air. “Hey, you okay?”

“Family.” Cas picked at a loose thread on his jeans. “You guys are all a family.”

He sat next to his friend on the wooden slats of the deck, gently knocking his shoulder to Castiel’s. “Hey, you're a part of this family too.”

“Did you look for me?”

“What?”

Castiel breathed in deeply through his nose. “You thought I was dead. Did you look for me?”

“Yes.” Dean sighed, fiddling with his fingers. “Cas, listen. You- man how do I say this without it being weird. Uh, well, you've died before. There was one time where I thought you drowned. I saw it, actually.” Dean paused to gauge Castiel’s reaction but got nothing. “But I found you a few months after, not remembering where you were or who you were. We got through it. It wasn't handled well. I- when I thought you were dead this time, I thought ‘that's it Winchester, shows over. You only get one chance and you blew it. He's not coming back.’ I uh-” he blew a huge breathe from his lungs wishing it to blow him from this porch too. “I didn't want to live anymore.” The quiet on the porch felt deafening. A cricket somewhere in the front chirped in the distance. “I failed you. I never thought you'd be in my life again, that it was my punishment for not-” 

Cas put his hand on Dean's knee, warm and secure, tethering Dean back to earth. “I just wanted to know if you looked. And you did. And I'm glad I'm back. I wish I could remember everything-”

“Not everything. Cas, a lot of stuff that happened was bad. Really bad. Just downright  _ horrific _ . And I'm not just talking about us, us and Sam, us  _ with  _ Sam. I'm talking about the whole world. Mistakes you might not be ready to remember. But… you're still here. You're family. If you want to remember, I'll help you remember.”

Cas smiled softly, knocking their shoulders together. “Thanks”

Dean knocked back. “Anytime.”

 

——————

 

The closest Dean ever got to seeing the process of vegetation growing up close was at school. He was seven years old, John had stopped in a town somewhere in rural Ohio for five months - the longest they'd ever stayed in one place as children. His teacher was Miss Mabel, an older woman who never married but instead ran a farm when she wasn't teaching. She'd brought in old yogurt cups and sunflower seeds for the children to plant, each one putting theirs on the windowsill with their names scrawled on little name tags stuck haphazardly on the plastic containers. They would water their plants every morning and soon the seeds would sprout. It was his favourite part of the day and would wake up early every morning just to make sure they got to school in time to water them. Dean didn't remember how he used to talk to the plant, or how gentle he was when Miss Mabel gave them pots to transfer them into once they were big enough. What he did remember was John throwing it in a dumpster once it was time to move on. 

Here, in the Willson’s vegetable patch though, he had his own little corner of tomatoes and squash growing and he found he enjoyed it more than he expected. He had hesitated when at the gardening store with Susan in the early spring when she asked if he wanted his own section. 

“There's plenty of room. Hell, if you wanted to plant trees, no one would say no.” She had gently pushed him towards the tower of seed packets. “Go pick something.” He left with his own pair of gloves, three packets of seeds and a hand trowel. 

It became a part of his daily routine now. Wake up, get breakfast started, get in the garden, make lunch, fix something broken or touching up some paint that Penelope destroyed with her crayons of spilled pasta, help someone with research on a hunt, make dinner, relax with his family in front of the tv, shower, and sleep. It felt a little stagnant, but every day, he dug or cut something with the intent for it to grow, not to bury something dead. Or worse, unbury something dead to salt and burn, and re-bury it. 

The summer at the Wilsons was great, but this year, the heat was almost unbearable after one in the afternoon. The sun was growing too harsh now so he left his plants to bask in its warmth as he went to seek refuge in the air conditioned house. Toeing off his boots, he heard Diana puttering around the living room with the vacuum and singing along with the radio. It wasn't until she shut it off that he heard the song she was singing. 

 

“ _ I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend _ __  
_ Lucky to have been where I have been _ _  
_ __ Lucky to be coming home again!”

  
  


Dean felt dizzy, his heart beating a million miles a minute and his vision blurred. He plastered his back along the kitchen wall, sliding to the floor. He couldn't breathe, it felt like the world was tilting on its axis and he was going to end up being swallowed by the earth, falling right back on to the stalks in hell. He tried to steady his breathing, to stop himself from rocking back and forth, to do something, but all he did was grip at his jeans with both hands. 

That's how Lynn found him. It felt like he'd been there hours, days, but he had no concept of time. One second he was alone on the floor, the next he was wrapped in an ugly crocheted blanket in Lynn’s office on the couch, her strong grip pulling the blanket even closer. 

“Wha- what happened?” His voice cracked and he realized just now that he'd been crying. Embarrassed didn't even cover how he felt at that moment. 

“You had a panic attack.” Lynn closed the door behind her, pushing the  _ IN SESSION _ button on the wall before sitting in her usual chair. She pulled it closer to him, her usual notebook forgotten. “Have you had them before?”

He shook his head. “Only before the world’s about to end.” He croaked. 

Lynn nodded. She put her hand on his knee. “Is this about Castiel?” 

“What?” He sputtered. “Why would you- I don't know what you're talking about. Why would it- I don’t-” 

“Hey hey hey. It's okay Dean. If it makes you uncomfortable I can have Sam bring him to the bunker instead. Or speak with Claire-”

“No.” He wrestled to get the blanket off him, trying to get away from there. “I’m not dumping this on Claire. She has enough to worry about, she doesn't need this too. I was the one who signed the form for Cas to stay with me.” He stood. “It's my responsibility.”

Lynn pulled on his shirt without standing, but it was enough to pull him back to the couch. “Do you know how panic attacks work?” He shook his head. “Biologically humans have a response in them that keeps them alive in times of stressful situations. The flight or fight response. That's what you've faced every single time you and Sam stop the end of the world, you feel it in every hunt. You either run or you stand your ground to fight whatever it is you’re up against. Follow me so far?” He nodded numbly. “A panic attack is that same response that's triggered by something that isn't life threatening, and the body can't understand why it's happening and it tries to fight with itself in hopes of stopping the response but only making it worse. You end up expelling the same amount of energy that you would if you were running from a Wedigo.”

“Oh.” Dean propped his elbows on his knees, hiding his face in his hands. 

“Dean. If it's making you uncomfortable, we can have Cas stay the week somewhere else. He should visit places he once was in before he lost his memories.” Before he died, Dean thought. “It's important for him to keep visiting those places until he gets something. And you need some time to yourself too. You've been under so much pressure lately to help everyone. You've been fixing things around the house, taking care of Cas and Penelope and you've been in some weird contest with Susan about who can grow the better tomatoes. You need to just… give yourself some time. Your best friend died, and you've been mourning his loss for years and suddenly, he's alive and sitting next to you at breakfast and doesn't remember who you are.” Lynn pulled the blanket over his shoulders. “It's okay to feel things over it Dean. Feelings are scary, but they're normal for humans to feel. Emotions separate us from the things we hunt. And you can't keep shoving them down in a garbage can soaked in kerosene and lighting it on fire with the expectation of it burning away. Sooner or later someone or something will tip it over and then everything will be on fire. Take the rest of the day to just sit in your room. Watch a movie or take a nap, just take it easy.” 

“When did you know? About… you know.”

“How you feel about him isn't a secret. You're not as subtle as you think you are, but none of us mind. Sam might be frustrated with… he used the phrase ‘the UST stopped being funny seven years ago’. I'm not sure what UST means, but I think he's tired of waiting for you to talk to him about it. But I think it was when we were in that Silent Hill town, when you were talking with Diana… I wasn’t eavesdropping, i just overheard-“ she waved a hand dismissively. “Doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you had to acknowledge it and work through it. I can help you with that, but you have to be willing to do the work.”

He nodded numbly, and they spoke quietly together a few more minutes before getting off topic, as they sometimes did in their talks. Dean relished it. He was getting better at being open with his emotions and working through his issues, but it still felt like pulling teeth. Being distracted made it hurt less for a while. He needed it to hurt less. 

When Lynn deemed him well enough to leave, he spent the rest of his day in his room, tidying up some of his dirty clothes and reading some books he’d been putting off. 

 

The one benefit of the house was that it had a lot of bedrooms. There were enough upstairs that Dean had enough room between his walls and Sam's, because as he'd been informed earlier that day “Eileen may be deaf, but she's louder than a bullfrog in heat when she's in bed.” There were just some things brothers didn't need to hear. The one downside however, was that the walls were still fairly thin and Cas’ room shared a wall with his own. 

Late at night, when Dean lay awake, he could hear Castiel huffing as he tossed and turned, unable to ever get comfortable enough to fall asleep. Dean found that he couldn't fall asleep until Cas did and it made for a very disjointed sleeping schedule. 

After tucking Penelope in, Susan bid Dean goodnight and he settled into bed like he did every night. He waited until he heard Susan's CPAP machine to turn on across the hall, Artemis’ giant footfalls up the stairs and into Diana and Lynn’s room before the creak of their door closed. Brutus had begun sleeping in Dean's room for the past few months, and as the big dog curled up on the rug by Dean's left, just close enough to be petted goodnight, Cas began to toss. 

It bothered him. It really made him worried but he didn't think he had a right to say or do anything.  _ He's still your best friend,  _ the thoughts would flood in at once.  _ You should still intervene- help him. It doesn't matter that he can't remember because you remember.  _ But most nights he just lay in the dark, occasionally petting Brutus and waiting - hoping - for Cas to calm down and fall asleep. 

It only took ten minutes this time and Dean sighed in relief as he let himself sink into the memory foam, sleep over taking him. He didn't even have a chance to dream. Brutus woke him with his growling, eyes poised on the shared wall with Cas, body ready to sprint out the bedroom door. He tried to hush the dog, but the whimpering sound from next door was more than enough fuel to get him rolling out of bed and out of the door. 

The house was silent, everyone else's lights completely out. He threaded very carefully next door, opening the old oak slowly to avoid creaks, peeking his head through. Cas had all his lights off save for the clip on book light he'd gotten from Dean on his release from the hospital. The blue tinted light cast shadows up his face as he thrashed back and forth on the bed, fighting back a nightmare. Dean slipped in, quickly closing the door behind him and gripped at Cas’ shoulders

“Wake up. Come on Cas, wake up!” After the third shake, Castiel came to violently, scooting back from Dean so quickly he hid his head on the headboard. “You okay?”

“Ow.” Cas prodded the back of his head for a minute and came back with no blood in his palm. “Dean. I- it was-” he hung his head low, hands wringing in his lap. 

“It was just a nightmare. See? You're safe here.” 

“But it wasn't… it wasn't  _ just  _ a nightmare, was it?”

“What did you dream?”

“Me. Running. It was a set of woods that never ended, and I was being chased. I heard you. It felt like you were calling my name, but I could never see you and no one else could hear it. I just kept… running. The water was black and I couldn't drink it without…” His head dropped forward, hands cradling his face as he tried not to cry. 

“Cas. It was real.” His head shot up, staring straight at Dean with water rimmed eyes. “It was Purgatory. We were in purgatory after we- well after we… ugh. Maybe we'll talk about that part after. But there were real monsters chasing us, chasing  _ you _ , and you lead them away from me so I could… survive.” He shuffled awkwardly on the bed. “I eventually found you and we found a way to get out. You heard my voice cuz I was praying to you.” 

“Praying.”

“Yeah. Praying. You could hear it because… we ugh,” he rubbed the back of his neck, opting to stare off in the darkness instead of looking at Cas. “We share a profound bond. Or something.”

“Oh. Yes I remember that part. Something about Sam being upset with me for not calling him back and my telling him. That part was real?”

“Yeah. That's real.”

“And watching the first fish crawl out from the primordial ooze?” 

“Um… I wasn't there for that but I think you mentioned that once.”

“Huh. Then what about…”

“Cas, its late buddy. You gotta sleep. We can talk all about this tomorrow, okay? You've for bags under your eyes the size of grapefruit.”

“Please.” Castiel gripped his wrist, immobilizing Dean. “Could you just stay for a bit? Tell me something about you and Sam that I might remember? Did I meet Diana, Lynn and Susan before I… forgot who I was? Did we ever go on vacation? Where there-” 

“Okay, okay. Slow down. First, no you didn't know the Wilsons before… Sam and I met them just after you… disappeared. They're great people and good friends. Old you would have liked them as much as you do now.” 

“Oh. Okay.”

“Umm… let's see. Uh…” Dean thought

For a moment before snapping his fingers. “Bees!”

“Bees?” 

“Yeah, bees. You  _ love _ bees. You once showed up with a zipper bag full of honey you harvested yourself. There were still chunks of beeswax in it, but it was still really good. You just showed up without notice, wearing your trench coat and holding a baggie of honey.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. I uh… I taught you to drive.” 

“But wouldn't I have learnt as a teenager?”

“You got used to… other transportation like flying so you never drove. I taught you on this old junker. You nearly killed us the first time by swerving and we almost hit a tree.” 

“Wow.”

“It's a little funny now. You poofed us-” He couldn't help the words from his mouth. He hoped Cas didn't hear him but it was obvious as his eyebrows knit in confusion. “You weren't that bad actually. You were just trying too hard to impress me. You insisted you'd be a far better driver than me.” They chuckled quietly, the sound comforting and familiar. “You have.. a daughter.” He was going to mention Jack to him, but Cas wasn't ready for that. 

“Claire. I've spoke to her on the phone a bit.” 

“Yeah. She uh… well”

“She doesn't much like me.”

“Hey. You two have a…. complicated relationship. But one time for her birthday, you got her a giant stuffed animal, a grumpy cat, which was kind of ridiculous because she was almost an adult, but still funny. She still has it. She won't admit it, but she loves that thing, and not because it looks hilarious, but because she got it from you.” 

“I remember you giving her a gun?”

“Oh, that's uh, that wasn't real.”

Cas laughed. “Dean! You gave my daughter a gun! What were you thinking? That was definitely real!”

“No I didn't! You're remembering it wrong.”

“No, because Claire told me herself when we were texting yesterday.”

“Damnit.” 

“Dean!” Cas playfully shoved him, book light clattering to the ground. “Oh no.”

“It's okay.” Dean bent down to scoop it up. “See? It still works.” He put the light face up on the side table, illuminating them enough to see each other's facial expressions in the dark. “I'm uh..” Heat ran to his face in embarrassment and hunger. Cas looked so much younger in the soft lighting, his crows feet less pronounced and his smile soft. 

“Thank you Dean.” Cas reached forward, pulling him into a soft and warm hug. Dean couldn't help but dig his face into Cas’ shoulder, the soft fabric of his worn in t-shirt inviting. Dean felt heat move lower in his body and he had to pull back before he did something stupid, like never leave. 

Patting Castiel on the shoulder, he pulled away and stood. They bid a quick goodnight after Cas insisting he was okay, and Dean slipped out of the room. 

As he closed the door behind him, Brutus stared at him with a look almost like he was judging Dean. “Don't give me that look. Do you want to sleep in my room or not?” 

Brutus got the hint and bounded up onto the foot of Dean's bed, the older man sighing before climbing in and setting down, the dog inching himself closer to his face, drool leaving lines all over the sheets. As Dean pet the giant hound on his bed, he wondered what it would be like if someone were to be curled next to him instead as he would drift off. He sighed, resigning himself to simply enjoy Brutus’ warmth and affection, the slobbery kiss to his fingers gross, but still sweet. He drifted off with a paw on his tummy and his arm wrapped around the beast of a dog, dreaming of someone else’s hand on his chest instead. 

 


	8. Torment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a hunt with Eileen, Diana, and Jack goes wrong, Sam calls Dean for help. The problem? The djinn they THOUGHT they were hunting turned out to be a PACK of djinn/shifter hybrids. Because of COURSE they were, and just their luck: the poison works best if you’re afraid, so of course he has to face Diana’s worst memories in her own head with her. And some of his own.  
> **** scenes of extreme violence including a sexual assault scene (of you wanna pass it, it’s where she has a John in her room, just skip to her visiting her mom in the hospital) and a very graphic birth scene including placenta. You’ve been warned. *******
> 
> edit: I went back to edit some errors and inconsistencies.

“What the hell happened?” Dean demanded, the entire office in disarray, the poor shmuck who owned it would be spending  _ weeks _ getting rid of the stench of shifter.  _ Shifters _ . Shifters who were smarter than Dean ever met, cuz these guys came packing heat, and no, not guns. Poison. Specifically djinn poison mixed with African dream root, wolfsbane, and Nocnitsa blood, mixed together and injected directly into Diana’s neck, syringe still laying next to her unconscious form near the destroyed metal and glass desk. Sam knelt next to her, shaking her gently while Eileen held Jack, forcing him to look anywhere but at her still body. Her lips were a shade too blue, bruises under her eyes, defensive ones on her arms. 

“I’m sorry Dean. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t fast en- enough.” Jack hiccuped. The kid was a wreck, shaking and covered in dried blood. Thankfully, truly a miracle, no one else was injured save for Diana. Oh, and the dead shifters, but they _did_ murder an entire covenant down the street.

Dean sighed, patting the kid on the shoulder in a half attempt at empathy. “It happens, kid. Can you wake her up?”

Eileen shook her head in time with Jack’s. “He tried but it only ended up exploding the desk.” She couldn’t sign with her hands around Jack’s shoulders. Her fingers spasming from muscle memory. “The only way is to go into her head, but we tried that. She won’t let any of us in.”

“What?”

Sam muttered as he tried slapping Diana carefully on the face. “Jack tried sending me in, dream root too, and I hit a wall. Like, an actual wall. All ll I saw was a freakin’ 25 foot red brick wall going on forever in both directions. Same with Eileen. And when Jack tried to get in… I don’t know if it was her or the poison, but..”

“She set me on fire.” Jack murmured, letting his head fall onto Eileen’s comforting shoulder. She rubbed his shoulders, grimacing at Dean.

“Oh.”

“That’s why we called you. You guys seem close lately, so we thought… maybe…” Sam glanced up at him.

“Yeah. Yeah I’ll try. Do we still have the root?”

Sam shoved the jar into his hands, the tea already brewed. “It’s not much left. Do you think-"

“It’s enough.” Dean grabbed a few strands of Diana’s hair, swirled and tossed it back. “Ugh! Still tastes like ass.”

Jack tilted his head in such a Cas-like way that it unnerved him. “How does ass taste like?”

Dean rolled his eyes, sitting down next to Diana. “It’s just an expression kid.”

“It’s when something tastes really, really bad.” Sam offered.

He contemplated such for a second. “So ass tastes bad?”

“Let’s say it does and talk about this later.” Dean lay down next to her, grabbing her pale, cold hand. “We gotta hurry. She’s fading fast.”

“Sorry Dean.” Jack turned away from him, huddling further into Eileen’s embrace.

Nothing happened at first, as it normally did with dream hopping. It was like a mirage shifting away to the truth in the other person’s head. This time was no different as he waited and waited for the office to dissolve, for them to be somewhere else. But this was taking too long. Five, ten minutes rolled by before he turned to them to say it didn’t work. He couldn’t open his mouth though, which was abnormal. He turned his head to look at Diana, but he was no longer holding her hand. Instead, he was holding onto a bright yellow fireman-style sliding pole in a school playground.

“Woah. Where the hell…”  he let go of the pole, a child sliding down it not a moment later, and walked around. “This is a memory. Hmm.. I wonder which one of you…”

“Dionysis! Di-o-ny-sis! Hey freak!” Dean turned to see a child whip a juice box at the head of another, smaller kid, dark brown hair on each side of her head in a perfect braid. “What are you doing, _freak?_ ”

Dean moved close, stopping a few feet away. He saw the large purple stain on her white ABBA t-shirt spreading quickly. “Woah.” He’d never seen any childhood pictures of the sisters, so he had no idea what she’d look like. The dark hair was a surprise for sure.

“So, freak? What’s that you’re working on, huh?”

Young Diana fiddled with the contraption in front of her, half a Walkman and a bunch of other electronic parts strewn in her skirted lap. “It’s a device that tells you if you’re blood sugar is low. My uncle has diabetes, and he can’t afford-“ another juice box hit her face, this one not open. She sputtered in pain and surprise as the kids all laughed. “Why are you so mean?! I didn’t do anything wrong to you Lucas! And Britney?”

Lucas stepped forward, right up in her face, towering over her, an owl stalking a mouse in the dead of night. “It’s because you’re a freak, and freaks deserve to be put down.”

“Woah.” Dean paused. “Kid, that’s freaking dark. And rude. And what the hell is wrong with you?”

“And no one that short is a kid. You’re a big baby. A baby with a weird name and a weird thing.” He ripped the device from her hands, Diana getting up to take it from him, gears and microchips falling from her lap. She cried for him to stop, but he only grinned, saying “this is what you get when you’re not normal.” And he smashed it. He threw it on the ground with the force of a Mack truck, and it broke apart in a million pieces. The two ran off laughing, leaving Diana crying, desperately trying to pick up the pieces.

Dean looked around, hoping some teacher or even another kid would come to comfort her, but no one did. They just stared and whispered. Fat tears rolled down her face, tiny chest heaving as she tried to stop. Dean bent down to pick up a piece but his hand ghosted straight through. “Oh. Right.”

“Di!” Dean turned around to see a young man, no older than twenty five, run up to her and scooped her up in his arms. “Oh, Di! Someone hurt you! And your project. Oh, my baby. It’s okay, it’s okay, we can fix it.” He rocked her back and forth, shushing her as he hummed a tune very familiar to Dean, but he couldn’t tell why. “It’s okay baby. I’m going to take you home early and we’re going to have tomato soup with grilled cheese, and we’ll go pick out a new outfit for you to wear for the school pictures.”

Diana shook her head quickly against his chest. “No, daddy, no picture day, please. I don’t want to be at this school anymore. They ruined my present to uncle Julian!” She began to sob again, unable to stop her shaking.

“This is your dad. He seems like he cares.” Dean realized she couldn’t hear him, that memories don’t talk back, but he hoped some part of her consciousness was listening. “He looks kinda like Susan. Hey, you have that same shirt he’s… wearing… it’s his old shirt. The Queen shirt, it was his.” He felt something akin to jealousy as he watched her tiny fists grip onto the shirt she’d be wearing in her garden and fiddling in her workshop, twenty odd years later. “He seems like he loved you, Diana. I know this memory is nice, but this is not a dream, or just a memory. You have to. Wake. Up!”

Nothing. The kids still played on the jungle-gym, a game of double Dutch started further down on the only piece of concrete without an electronic part. Birds chirped. The wind blew through the trees. No change.

“Diana… I need you to let me help you!” Dean shouted. He blinked, the scene slowly fading away. “Oh, oh shit. Okay. Where to next?”

The playground stayed the same, but the kids started to disappear. “What..” he turned around but her father was gone, and so was the school. They were in a regular park now, and Diana wasn’t alone.

She couldn’t have been more than seven or eight, hair longer and still braided, but now it was a Dutch braid, single and straight down her back, bobbing as she ran with a younger girl. “Holy shit, _that’s_ Susan?”

Little four year old Susan was no taller than two and a half feet, hair long and plaited like Diana’s, chubby fingers covered in sand. She had a single Barbie bandage on her chin, most likely a fall onto the concrete by the parking lot. Two men followed behind them, smiling. The thinner man held a clear vinyl bag full of sand toys and the other held a soccer ball.

“What… who.. are they?” As they got closer, he noticed the thinner man had a few similar facial features to their father. “Huh. Maybe uncle Julian,” he muttered to himself.

“Unca Julan! Unca Julan!” Susan yelled for him as she tried to climb up a swing, her beaming smile showcasing her missing front teeth.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. Susan must have tripped at some point and both her front teeth fell out as a result. If only she had proof, then they could laugh about it once Diana woke up and he was out of her memories.

“Okay _miha_ . But you have to remember your manners, okay?” Uncle Julian got her up into his arms, blowing a raspberry onto her cheek. She squealed with glee at the affection. He placed her in the swing in one fluid motion, and began pushing the toddler swing gently from the front. He softly sang some Spanish ballad that sounded familiar to Dean yet again, and something in his chest felt heavy. They had this. They had _this_. An uncle who was there, who loved and cared for them. Who blew raspberries on their cheeks and sang to them. Dean wished he could go back, back to before mom died. To an alternate timeline where things were like this. Happy and warm and safe. But that hadn’t worked out that well in the early-mid 2000’s with that djinn, so he didn’t plan to try that again.

He moved curiously over to Diana, who had sat herself on the sand, pulling out each sand toy one by one and laying it beside her. “Alex, if you could be any dinosaur, which would you be?”

The man - Alex - put on an exaggerated face, showing her how seriously he thought about it. It had the right effect, her giggles warm and genuine. “I think I would like to be a p-terodactyl. I enjoy flying.”

“It’s pterodactyl. The p is silent.”

“Maybe _your_ pee is silent.”

“Eeeew! Gross!” She gently pushed his shoulder as he started digging. “My uncle loves you, you know. I know you’re not just roommates.” Alex froze. Dean knew that look, the “oh shit, you’ve found out and now I don’t know what to do” look, but Diana paid his face zero attention. She scooped up wet sand into her bucket, chattering away. “I know you love each other like boyfriend and girlfriend, even though you’re two boys. Dad said that it doesn’t matter that you’re two boys because love is love. Plus, if you and uncle Julian get married, I can be your best girl - it’s like best man, but I’m a girl - and then we’ll have _two_ uncles! For like… ever! I have two aunts already, but they’re sisters, so it’s not the same.” She stopped, looking into Alex’s eyes with a somber expression. “Uncle Julian wasn’t happy before. He was with someone who wouldn’t let him be himself, and he told dad that he felt trapped. When he met you, he told me it felt like coming home. You make him very happy, and I hope he makes you happy too.” She placed a small hand on his arm, smile wide, her lower left incisor gone.

Alex covered her hand with his own and sighed. “When I’m with him, it feels like home to me too.”

Diana sighed. “I hope I feel like that one day. 

Alex hummed and pulled her into a warm hug, kissing her on her forehead. “You will one day, Dino.”

 **_He has no idea_ ** , Dean thought, the image of Lynn and Diana in matching wedding dresses coming to mind. He snorted. “Dino. I’m gonna try that one.” 

She giggled. “I like when you call me Dino. Makes me feel,” she let go of him to mock showing off her arm muscles. “Powerful!” He laughed and joined in, making Julian turn and laugh with them. 

“This is good memory.” Dean smiled. “Am I getting through? Is this your way of fighting it?” He looked around, settling on talking with the sky. “Come on Diana, I know you’ve got this." 

The life of a hunter is scary. The number of times a good time turned sour for the Winchester’s was a list too long to keep in a museum’s archiving department. So it shouldn’t have shocked Dean when the scene turned dark. It really shouldn’t have, but it still was jarring.

Three men, around their late thirties, stalked up to them, baseball bats and duffles full of gear hanging from their shoulders. Julian pulled Susan from the swing and joined Alex and Diana, completely unaware of the men. Sitting cross legged next to Alex, sharing a quick and chaste kiss before sticking his hands into the dirt.

Dean already knew what was coming, it wasn’t theoretical physics. And yet…

“Hey, faggot!” The alpha of the group by the look of his stance and demeanour yelled. “What are you doing on our turf?”

Julian squared his shoulders and stood up tall. “Firstly, I’d ask you _kindly_ to not use vulgar language near children. Secondly, this is not your _turf_ as it is a public park, and frankly, you three grown men should not be hanging around a park without any children. It sends the wrong message.”

“Ha!” The alpha scoffed. “The only _wrong message_ here are you two _freaks._ ”

Diana froze, her whole body seizing up in fear. Susan dropped her toy, turning to look back and forth between the men. Slowly creeping into a crouch was Alex, his position shifting closer and closer to block the girls from the threat.

“There’s nothing wrong with being different. If it weren’t for weirdos and _freaks_ then we’d never have movies, or plays, or the modern telephone, or-“

The guy moved fast, swinging his bat at Alex before Julian could finish his sentence. The wood broke his arm, Alex howling in pain. Diana grabbed at a shrieking and crying Susan, running to hide under the slide as Julian and Alex tried to fend off the attackers. The odds weren’t in their favour. Three super buff baseball players armed with heavy wooden bats, and the two average guys with cheap plastic toy shovels.

Dean couldn’t watch, so he closed his eyes and turned his head. He felt every crack of bone and sharp exclamations of pain. He cracked an eye to see Diana run towards them. “Diana! No! Stop!” But she _couldn’t hear him_. She did what she always did - threw herself head first into danger. This time, literally. She picked just the right time for one of the guys to lift a bat off her uncle, and dove over him to shield him. The baseball player didn’t stop though, momentum too strong, and the bar hit her square in the back.

Her howl of pain caused them to pause. “I don’t know, Cornelius. It’s one thing about the fags, but the kids? That’s not right.”

The alpha - Cornelius, who names their kid _Cornelius_ anymore? - shook his head. “Fuck em. Fuck all of them.”  He raised the bat once more, but never landed it. The cops suddenly seemed to be at the right place in the right time. The siren bopped and the men scattered like flies.

Two officers came out with their guns drawn. The younger, a chubby black woman with double pierced ears and her hat askew ran after them, shouting something, but Dean couldn’t hear, he was too busy looking at Diana and her family. The second officer holstered his gun and ran towards them. He called in for backup and an ambulance, but things were not good. Julian couldn’t keep his eyes open, and Diana draped over him, crying. Alex’s eye was bleeding, the tissue around the bone starting to swell.

“This is the day he died. Your uncle.” Dean turned around, a hospital bed in view in the middle of the park. He walked over, seeing Julian in the bed hooked up to tubes and machines, Diana in a wheelchair next to him, torso in a full cast, holding his hand. She muttered something over and over again, but he couldn’t hear it. All he heard was the beeping of his monitors, then, a flatline.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. This was getting to be overwhelming for him and he had no idea on how to help her with this. He took deep even breaths to suppress the rage in his stomach. He got to kill the monster who killed their uncle, Diana and Susan probably never got justice for their own.  _This_ is why she won’t watch baseball. _This_ is why she wouldn’t tell them her other half was a woman when they met. _This_ was why she never grew as tall as the rest of her family. This was already too much awful for one person to face, and he knew it could only get worse from here.

Dean finally opened his eyes and looked around. The scene had changed. “Must be a different memory,” he mused out loud. He turned around to look at the house in front of him, white picket fence and rose bushes under the window sills, a sweet little bungalow with a brightly painted yellow door. It was quaint under the wash of the street lights at midnight. The door burst forth, a vamp running full speed towards the street without warning. “Hey!” He yelled, turning back around when he realized he wasn’t the only one yelling.

“ _Get back here Satan’s beast!_ ” Diana came through the door, completely nude, a broad sword raised above her head as she chased after him, long brown hair in a plait whipping behind her at every step. As she blew by him, Dean realized with a start that it wasn’t Diana. The features weren’t right, the legs too short, not a single birthmark or freckle, and piercings filled the entire ear on both ends. Without a doubt, this was their mother, Penelope. She looked so much like her daughter that it was jarring. He saw the resemblances from photos Eileen had sneaked him when they stayed up late one night, going through the scrapbook she and Lynn made the sisters for Christmas. But this was different, because coming out from behind the door in a Ghostbusters nightgown, was a nine year old Diana.

She hasn’t started bleaching her hair yet, so much like her mother it was still shocking. “Mama!” She straddled the line between whisper yelling and speaking. “Mama! Come back!” Dean stood stalk still as Diana ran back into the house, emerging seconds later with shoes on and an adult’s size robe with floral print all over it. She tripped on the last step and Dean tried to help her up, but his hands ghosted through her like mist. “Mama!”

Dean followed on their heels. No other lights on the block went on, no one came out to see what was going on, just a scared little girl trailing after her sword-wielding mother and a vampire. She was strong despite her mental state, decapitating him in moments. His body fell onto the sidewalk in a wet thump, the sword dripping blood onto her bare feet.

Diana murmured as she wrapped her mother in the bathrobe. “It’s over Mama, it’s all over. He’s gone. I’m here, I got you mom, I got you.”  Penelope let go of the sword long enough to slip her hands into the robe, blood smearing on the floral pattern.

“Heathen.”  She sneered, spitting on him as she left, sword scraping on the cement. Diana stood on the sidewalk alone, both knees scraped and hands in fists by her hips. The fact that Penelope hadn’t even registered the fact that her daughter was there - let alone witnessed her decapitate another being - pissed him off to no end.

Dean moved to get closer to her, the night sky growing lighter and lighter, the scene fading into tones of grey. A cemetery with a small gathering on the valley between two hills. He passed an honest to goodness vulture perched on a tombstone, looming over him, eyes following a scurrying rat. His boots sank in the mud. The casket was being lowered as he cleared the edge. Penelope was standing stock still, braid curled around her head like a crown, a black veil pinned into it. Diana stood on her right, face blank and holding Susan’s hand. They looked almost the same now, Susan just recently become a teenager, but Diana was thinner, scarily so, face almost hollow and Susan the same height as her older sister. Susan’s hair was the same as her mother, the braid tighter, a black scarf wrapped tight around it. Her face was tear streaked, the mascara running down her cheeks in muddy lines.

There were a few familiar faces in the crowd, Dean recognizing a hunter Bobby once knew who was now dead for few years. Another face shocked him the most though - young, clean shaven without a hat on and almost unrecognizable - Bobby.

Bobby never _once_ mentioned a hunting family with two girls before. He must have hunted with them just the one time. Or maybe they grew up in Souix Falls and buried Joseph here. He couldn’t tell, he wouldn’t be able to ask Bobby now. Nothing in his journals indicated them at any rate.

Dean moved to say something but between once blink and the next, he was somewhere entirely different.

The bar was a dive at best, mostly truckers and mid day drunks. Dean looked around, trying to find Susan or Diana, but couldn’t find either. He sat at the counter, the bartender topped off the guy to his left. 

“You know, I have a hotel room not far from here, if you… You know.” The guy next to him drawled on. Dean turned to say something, only to see Diana on the guy’s other side, nervous and out of place. She barely looked old enough to be here, swimming in a black and white flannel, sports bra peeking out over the sides of her collar, hair unwashed and face even more sunken in. With a shock, he realized that it probably hadn’t been more than a few months since the funeral. **_Was it days, Diana?_ ** He thought. **_Had it only been a few days before you realized you had no other option? Before you made up your mind?_ **

“Uh…” she looked towards the bartender, trying to get help, but was too late. The bartender had gone on break. “You know…” Dean saw her wringing her hands on the too long sleeves.

“It’s your dad’s”, Dean leaned over the sleazeball to look at the memory of her. “You’re still wearing his flannel. It hasn’t even been days, has it? No one helped you? They just left you to pick up the pieces?” He was getting angry now.

“You know,” the sleazeball took out his wallet; throwing a hundred on the bar top, he flashed her a peek at his wallet, a fat stack of bills as thick as Dean’s thumb. “My hotel room is pretty nice. It’s got a hot tub and Pay-Per-View.”

“Diana. Don’t.” Dean knew she couldn’t hear him, but it didn’t matter. “Diana. Diana, there are other ways. Hustle pool, steal credit cards! Don’t, Diana. Don’t.”

Her face morphed, slowly, her posture shifting from prey to predator. Her foot stopped jiggling on the bar stool’s support beam, delicate, shaking fingers letting go of the flannel to walk along the bar top to rest on his rough ones. “Well…” she shifted her weight from one hip to the other. It gave him a better view of her cleavage and made her hair fall in a cascade around her shoulders. “I _was_ supposed to meet my boyfriend here - I just got fired from my job, you see,” she plucked the straw from her drink with her other hand, mixing the ice noisily. “He said he’d get me a job at the diner on 6th? What’s it called again?”

“Jolene’s. It’s a good enough place, I guess.”

“Yeah…” she sighed heavily, trying to sell the story. “But he’s late and I _could_ use some company…” Tilting her head, Dean saw how pronounced her eye bags had gotten. If he met this young woman - **_barely looking nineteen_ ** \- he would have thought she was on a bender or part of a sleep deprivation study. The sheer fact that this nameless, faceless stranger found this younger Diana sexually appealing was disgusting. “You know, if the _time_ … was right?” Her hand now lay on top of his wallet, and though Dean couldn’t see the look on the other guy’s face, he knew that the sleezball was down, because of _course_ he was. Diana started sex work at some point, and it made him physically sick to see the memory of how it actually started. She had _literally_ just buried her father and was hitting up the closest bar to hustle money for her family.

He felt someone yank hard on his barstool, and he whipped around to tell them off, forgetting again that he was just reliving _her_ worst memories. The bar dissolved and a seedy motel room came into focus. He was still sitting down, but on a crappy wooden chair leaned against a wall, the wallpaper peeling off the drywall where the backrest scraped along it. The door burst open with such force it dented the wall it hit. He already moved to grab his gun before realizing that in dream world, weapons weren’t available.

Diana was older now, at least twenty, her hair cut shorter now, closer to Sam’s current look. Her dress was more expensive looking than her regular flannel, the cleavage cut low and mesh windows on either side of her ribs. He’d never seen her wear heels before, which was such an oddity to him because Lynn and Susan always had them at the house, often wearing them when they all went out. Lynn had taken to wearing them to work often, towering over her wife even more than normal. He had never in the four years he’d known her, seen Diana in heels. She looked… dangerous seemed the best term. **_Fucking terrifying is how she looks_ ** , he thought. Her red dress and crimson lips coupled with the chin length hair _with heels_ \- she might as well have poised a pistol with a silencer at her companion’s head.

Her companion didn’t look like a dangerous man, mostly plainly dressed in slacks and a vintage Batman T shirt half tucked in. His glasses were askew, neck covered in red lip marks and hickies. He looked down to party.

For the life of him, Dean couldn’t possibly understand how this could be a bad memory for Diana. It seemed normal enough. Just another John to help pay the bills.

The John shut the door and walked her back into it, their lips caught in a heated kiss. “Alright, alright,” Dean bemoaned. He picked at the stray thread hanging from his plaid button up.

He was shaken from his reverie when their kissing against the door turned to choking sounds. The John had her hanging from the door by his hand around her throat, and he shoved her against it, _hard._

“Hey!” Dean’s yelling was useless, he knew that, but it didn’t stop him. “Stop it you piece of shit!” He tried grabbing the John, but like before at the house, his hands were like mist. “Let go of her!” Her lips were turning purple, her feet barely holding her up, eyes rolling into the back of her head. **_Oh no, oh no, oh no._ ** “You’re killing her!”

“Yeah, take it _you bitch_!”

“Sto-“ She wheezed. “Let- le- let g-go!” Her breath was hardly coming and she was going to lose consciousness any second.

Dean grabbed at the hand holding her up against the door, but it was useless. “Let. Go. Of. Her!”

“I’m not letting go bitch! This is what I paid for,” his other hand came up to push against her breastbone, trapping her even more than before. If he pushed much harder, he could kill her. “And _this_ is what I’m. Gonna. Get.”

A flash of gold came into his view and then Diana was gasping for air greedily. Dean stepped back. The John had one of her golden sparkly high heels stuck at the side of his jugular, blood spurting onto the outdated wallpaper. He gasped around it, blood pooling on his lips. Diana slid down onto the floor, gasping and crying as the John kept staggering backwards and falling onto the bed. He grasped at the shoe to pull it out, only to have more blood spill out. Dean crouched in front of her, ignoring the flailing idiot. She was a mess, not only from the choking, but from the line of scars on her arms. Dean wanted to kick himself for never noticing them before, especially now that they were so obvious. Old self harm lines ran crisscrossed across both wrists, cigarette burns on her forearms, a stab wound that was _just_ scaring over on her bicep, the freckles on her pale skin almost violent brown around all the wounds and scars. She had also been drinking, no doubt heavily, eyes glazed over and pallor poor.

He reached out to her, no longer caring if it worked or not. She needed comforting and by **Chuck** would he try his darndest to comfort her. “It’s okay Diana,” he murmured, trying to move her hair from her eyes. “He can’t hurt you anymore, you’re safe. It’s over.” He scooted closer, hand ghosting through her foot by accident as he shuffled. “I’m here, it’s okay Diana. I’m here.”

She shook against the door, hands moving around to feel for other injuries, her gasp when she touched her ankle meant it was probably twisted. The sobs coming from her were hoarse and quiet, though her breathing was still ragged. Dean saw the bruises on her neck and breastbone already starting to bloom red. It was awful. All the violence he’d seen in his life could never have prepared him for this. He tortured in the pit, he had to lay his loved ones’ bodies on pyers, spent a year in purgatory, fought almost every damn creature in existence, but _this_? _This_ was something he never saw before.

He wasn’t ignorant to the abuse and assault women faced on a damn near daily basis, it wasn’t a huge secret. He stepped in when he could, as often as was necessary, even if it meant he had to take the punch himself. He would have gladly punched Todd square in the mouth, then the balls for how he scared Lynn all those years ago. But this? Behind closed doors - literally - while a young woman just tried her best to make some money to feel her family, where no one came to her defence, where a split moment decision literally meant life or death; it reminded him that this happened too much to ignore. It wasn’t just a random one time thing. It probably happened to Diana more often, but this was just the first. Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe she was lucky. But other women weren’t. Other _girls_ were. It left him with a gaping hole in the pit of his stomach. “All the saving people means nothing if this is what happens to them.”

He looked behind him to see what the John was doing, only to find him dead. Eyes permanently transfixed on the ceiling, a pool of blood around his neck and shoulders. But next to him, there was another bed. This new bed was far too nice to be in a shady motel room. The bed didn’t look much like a hospital gurney, but Dean knew it had to be. The woman on it, reading from a book about butterflies, an ugly crocheted blanket over top her white comforter bunched on her legs, was Penelope. She was older now, grey hair intertwined between her brown in the long braid curled around her head, much like the style she wore at her husband’s funeral. The metal chair next to her had a cross stitched pillow on it, a scene of flowers along the perimeter with a single butterfly in the middle.

Diana’s boots drew his eye behind him, the motel room now a hospital wing. She looked older too, the set of her shoulders hunched and radiating exhaustion. Her hair was dyed, surprisingly ginger of all colours, and just long enough to put in a ponytail, eyes rimmed with smudged eyeliner. She clumped down the hallway with her oversized boots and into her mother’s room, raincoat billowing behind her as she unbuttoned it.

“Hi mom,” she lifted the pillow to sit on the chair, her mother paying her no attention.  She held the pillow on her lap as she stared at her mom’s hands. They were gnarled things, warped from arthritis or an accident or maybe both. They managed to turn the page well enough though. Dean moved to stand behind her this time, wanting to see  Penelope’s face. “Suzie… I know you wouldn’t like it, but we changed our names. We had to mom, we just- “ she huffed. “Anyways. Suzie graduated a bit ago. She got into nursing school! I’m so proud of her.” For a moment, Diana’s shoulders weren’t tense. “She’s doing so well, and she’s top of her class!” Her shoulders tensed when Penelope looked up at her. “I know you don’t like it here, but you’re safe here. Your room has sigils to protect you and you have all your good luck charms, see?” She pulled open the drawer next to the bed, the contents of her mother’s junk drawer sliding around from force.

“Blue. Five hundred. Butterfly. Blue butterfly.” Penelope muttered to herself as she stared at her daughter’s shoulder. “Six million cantaloupes. Don’t jump. Five hundred. Who said that?” She turned her head towards the ceiling. “Why are you still here? Why talking? No talking. Go away. Blue. Not more blue. No butterflies. Go away.”

“Mom,” Diana tried to reach out for her mother, desperate to get her back to reality. “It’s gonna be okay. I- I’m working a lot lately, and you don’t have to worry about her tuition or your fees here. Mom, mom, look at me.”

“No!” Penelope grabbed the book with both hands and thwacked Diana over the face with it repeatedly. “Begone foul demon!” Her screeching drawing the attention of the nurses in the hall. “There is no room for demons in heaven! Demons _or_ their dirty _little spawn!_ Fly back to hell on your broken wings you heathen! This is a place for angels only!” The magazine slipped from her grasp and started wailing on any part of her daughter she could reach with her bare hands.

Thankfully, the nurses and orderlies were fast enough with sedating her that Diana didn’t sustain more than a few paper cuts and bruises. She was defeated, sitting in the metal chair with a butterfly stitched pillow in her lap as they handled her mother. A hand flew to her stomach, pressing gently and breathing deeply. A nurse came to check out her face, giving her the all clear. Diana’s hand stopped the nurse on her way out. “She doesn’t remember me anymore.” It was so quiet he didn’t think the nurse caught it. But the shake of her head ‘no’ caused a tidal wave of emotions to roll across her features, only to have it set in a hard line again; ever the soldier.

The scene didn’t fade away yet, which was a new development. Dean was waiting for something to happen, but couldn’t possibly know what. Diana sat in the chair, facing her now sedated and asleep mother as the clock continued to tic by the seconds on the wall. For just a moment, things seemed peaceful, almost as if the nightmares would end there.

But as it were, Diana chose that one moment - the moment of true and utter calm - to unleash the storm. She screamed. And screamed. Louder and more pained than the one before, he couldn’t understand why. The room started to fade, first her mother, than the hospital bed, one thing slowly leaking out of existence after the last. Soon the only things left in the room were Diana, the chair, and Dean. The door to the hallway was also gone.

Diana screamed again, even more bloodcurdling than the last before she stood from the chair. “Make it stop! Please!”

“Now, now!” Dean whipped around, a woman looking vaguely like an older and fatter version of Penelope walked towards them. The room was now part of a cabin, rustic and very poorly maintained. The woman had on a set of cheap costume earrings and a necklace that he supposed was meant to resemble pearls but made him consider for a fraction of a second to actually be made of bone. She looked a bit like Penelope in the jaw and eyes. “This is the natural order of things!” Her tone was condescending and bitter. “You act like a common whore, you pay the whore’s price.” The woman passed right through him, shivers wracking his spine.

He turned back to Diana, taken aback by her appearance. Her hair was longer, far longer than it was even now. It hang around her shoulders in dirty brown locks, sweat sticking it to her forehead and cheeks. The hair should not have been his main focus though, as her swollen pregnant belly seemed to be her biggest problem. Tears ran down her face, anger seeping from them as they passed her chin. “I should be in the hospital!” She whined.

“Ha!” Another woman came into the small room. She was almost an exact copy of her twin if it were not for the rather obscene mole balancing precariously on the edge of her jaw. “Hospitals are for _good_ little girls who _don’t_ get pregnant by their disgusting little sex clients.”

“Great. Bitch One and Bitch Two,” he rolled his eyes. “It’s like Cat in the Hat but with the world’s shittiest…” he paused a moment in thought. “You were pregnant. You never mentioned you were… they look like Penelope senior. They’re your… aunts. These are your aunts.” He wanted to throw up. “Who… who _does this_ to the little family they _have left?!_ ” He charged towards one of them, floating through without any damage. Diana’s contractions got closer together, and with each pause in her screams, he decided to fill with his own. “You’re disgusting! Your niece just wanted to go to a hospital! _A hospital!_ That’s it! Just wanted to give birth somewhere clean, and- and- and- and safe! She didn’t want to be in some, what even _is_ this? A hovel?! How _dare_ you!”

He kept screaming at them, never getting a single reaction from either Bitch One or Bitch Two. Diana kept screaming too, but the once pained screams were now turning into gut wrenching sobs of grief. Fat tears streamed from her eyes, shaking in the creaky bed, gasping for air with her hand on her throat. He sat on the bed next to her, trying desperately to wipe the stray hairs from her forehead, hand ghosting through.

Then, the contractions got closer, and she had to push. He stood next to her head, trying to grab her hands to soothe her, but failing to grip her through his ghostly fingers. She pushed and pushed between screams and cries. He’d never seen someone so in agony before that wasn’t on a torture block. It was too much. He didn’t think she’d survive until finally, _finally,_ he heard a baby cry.

Bitch 2 cut the cord and started wiping him down, getting the blood and _stuff_ off him as he wriggled, probably cold and scared. Bitch 1 was kind enough to wipe her viscera covered hands on the blanket over Diana’s now smaller stomach.

“Let me see him,” she asked weakly. Her hand reached for him, only to be slapped away from her. A hand came across her face in a deafening smack, new tears filling her eyes.

“Whores don’t get to hold their affair babies. You better be praying to the angels your mother claims she talks to that this kid doesn’t end up a screw up like you.” Bitch one spat out.

“No, please! Where are you taking him?”

“To the church. They’ll find a nice home for him there.”

Diana gasped for breath, exhausted and fighting to sit up. “But that’s kidnaping! He’s _my son!_ I’ll have you arrested!”

Bitch Two stopped in her tracks. “And we’ll tell them that his alcoholic whore of a mother came to a cabin in the woods to commune with nature while giving birth. Alone.”

“You dragged me here! I begged for you to help when the state could step in! You lied and you told me you’d help me! Why are you doing this?!”

“And who are they going to believe? Us, two little old ladies who knit socks for the babies at the hospital? Or the alcoholic trash whore who couldn’t keep her legs shut and who’s going to end up just like her schizo mother?”

“She _has_ schizophrenia, She is NOT A SCHIZO!” Her booming voice coaxed a cry from the baby. “And am _not_ a whore! Dad died and you two were nowhere! Mom got worse mentally and you two didn’t pick up the phone! You deserted Susan and I the day we stopped having chubby cheeks because your sister needed help and _you couldn’t be bothered_.” Her sneer was deadly. “I wrote you so many times and you both did Jack shit!”

Bitch 1 came closer to her face, Diana shrinking back a bit in fear. “ **GOD** doesn’t give us more than we can handle. If it’s **His** way, then you should have handled it. But you couldn’t, and for that, **He** has punished you, not us.” The smile she unleashed was venomous. If only queen Ursula could have seen it on their faces, even the sea witch herself would cower in fear.

Diana struggled to get up, to go after them, but Bitch One grabbed her wrist, pulling it towards the headboard and cuffed her to it. “You keep still and be good for once in your pathetic life.”

Diana struggled and screamed after them, voice loud but shaking. They did not look back. They did not hesitate or pussyfoot around. With determination, they turned, grabbed their bags, a baby wrapped under one of their arms, and left. Bitch 2 slammed the door so hard, the entire cabin shook. Diana’s screams weren’t loud enough to drown out the starting of a motor, or the gravel being thrown around as the car peeled out of the driveway, sound getting quieter as they drove further away. The only sounds left were Diana’s gut wrenching cries.

Diana’s wrist was raw from struggling against the cold metal, tears spilling over her cheek, anger bubbling to the surface. “Fuck!”

The scene went on for so long, the light behind the windows changed several times. Light, dark, light, dark again. Dean realized she was here for _days._ She turned suddenly, jerking the chain, a bone breaking with a sickening sound. “Fuuuuuuuuck! FUCK!” Wrist at a stomach curdling angle, she slipped the cuff over her fingers. Standing was damn near impossible, but she managed to get as far as the rocking chair, dried blood between her thighs making her wince.

Dean turned to the bed get a better look and realized she had delivered her placenta three days too late. She was dying. “Diana. Oh fuck. Gross, so _gross_. Diana, you have an infection.” His blood boiled and bile rose to his throat. “Can I vomit? Is that possible in here? Cuz I’m about twelve second from blowing my chunks here.”

Diana didn’t answer him. She let herself slide to the floor, crawling on her hands and knees slowly, trembling with each jarring movement. “Julian. Julian.” She muttered. Dread filled his stomach. “Julian. Mommy’s coming, Julian . I promise.” Her broken wrist smarted and she fell face first. “Julian!” She screamed, rolling on her back and using her legs to shove closer to the door. “Ju- Jul- Julian!”

Dean started to cry. He didn’t think it was possible to do inside someone else’s head, but he couldn’t stop. He lowered himself to the one part of the floor without blood and shook with tears streaking his face. She kept moving closer to the door, crying and bleeding and losing consciousness fast. A sob broke from his chest without his permission. “This is your life. Your _whole life_ is one series of awfulness after another. This is your life, and there are people who would be _lost_ with just one of these things, but you’ve faced _so many!_ ” She stopped moving for a second, breathing heavily and covering her face with one hand to hide her tears. “This is why you still hunt. This is why you went to war. Why you did everything you did: so no one else has to. So your sister was safe. You-“ he gasped as Diana pulled herself up, facing him. “Can… can you see me?”

But she didn’t answer. Her eyes weren’t clear with recognition or confusion, they were hard. Tears kept coming but they were slow trickles now. “I did not,” _shuffle,_ “survive a,” _shuffle,_ “fucking wendigo,” _shuffle, shuffle_ , “to let _this,” shuffle,_ “kill me!” She kept shuffling to the door, using only her feet to push away from the room. She kept going, pausing to speak between shuffles. “I didn’t…. take down an entire… nest of vamps… _alone_ … to die of an…. an _infection!_ I’ll be damned… if they keep you from me…Julian. Julian… mommy’s coming… I’m coming…” she kept pushing herself, a soft song coming to her lips.

 

“ _Los pollitos dicen_ __  
_Pío pío pío_ __  
_Cuando tienen hambre_ __  
_Y cuando tienen frio_ __  
_La gallina busca_ __  
_El maíz y el trigo_ __  
_Les da la comida_  
Y les presta abrigo”

 

She sobbed as she did, the tune similar to what Joseph and Julian had sung, but slower and sadder.

 

 _“Bajos sus dos alas_ __  
_Acurrucaditos_ __  
_Duermen los pollitos_ __  
_Hasta el otro día_ __  
_Cuando se despiertan_ __  
_Dicen ‘mamcita,_ __  
_Tengo mucha hambre_  
Dame lombricitas’”

 

She managed to get to the door as she finished, panting from exertion and turning the knob with an outstretched hand. Opening the door, a bright light washed over everything, nearly blinding him.

Heat. Intense dry heat permeated through his jeans as he sat on an uncomfortable seat. He reached toward his chest to be acquainted with the seatbelt holding him safe. “Wooooo hooo!” He jerked his head behind him, a younger soldier with short brown hair and a crooked smile slapped at his knees. He realised he recognised him from Susan's wedding photos. _Danny_. “Now we’re cooking with Gas! Come on Monroe, put some more stank on it!”

“Ten four!”

Beside Danny was Diana, hair almost all but shaved down, bleached and sticking up straight by the wind. She had a huge grin on her face as she put on her helmet. “So my sister got married.”

“Finally! How long have her an Nathan been a thing?” The driver asked, thick New Jersey accent like cream cheese.

Diana popped the gum in her mouth. “Oh man, I don’t even know. He says three years, she says three and a half, but I think they’re both bs-ing me.”

He laughed. “Yeah, that’d be Susan. How was the wedding?” He gasped, tone mocking. “Did you wear a _dress?”_

She shoved him playfully, sucking on her teeth. “ _Please._ You know I don’t wear things that could keep me from whooping someone’s ass!”

The laughter in the humvee was light and full. But he knew it wouldn’t last long.

Dean leaned forward, trying to break her from this. “This isn’t real Diana. You’re re-living this in an actual nightmare. You need to break this and get out”

Diana narrowed her eyes and said, “what’s-“

Then it happened. The thing in the middle of the road, whatever it was, had exploded, sending the vehicle up and over, falling backwards before rolling down a hill on the right. Dean was ejected from his seat, standing on the sand and looking around to see better.

A school. It was a school. They had blown up the school and Dean had to look away from the dozens of dead people on the ground, half of them children. _Now_ he was going to puke. He leaned forward and dry heaved. Bullets whizzed through his ghost-like form, unaffected.

Once he caught his breath, he chased down the hill after her. The humvee was wrecked, a huge piece of the door gone, another door completely thrown off, glass everywhere; the driver was half out of the windshield, dead. Dean searched through the dead bodies looking for her, but couldn’t. He started to panic, looking everywhere for her, before finding the missing door, and the tiny opening showing a whole underneath. He ghosted through it, sitting beside Diana as she hissed at the pain in her abdomen.

She peeled her clothes off, one by one, Kevlar, than jacket, etc. Underneath it all, a jagged piece of metal the size of a dinner plate had torn through everything and stuck out of her stomach at an angle, blood flowing from the wound.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean startled at them both saying it in tandem. If this wasn’t so awful, he would have laughed. But as it were, she had the missing part of the humvee stuck in her, her fellow brothers in arms dead, and stuck in a pit in the middle of a war zone.

She threw her head back, helmet hitting sand. “Fuuuuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck.” She gently touched the metal, hissing in pain. “Okay, no. Ah, fuck. The school!” She tried to pull herself up to peak over the door, but couldn’t move. “Ah fuck! Those kids. _Oh, **God**!” _ She cried.

“ **God** won’t save you, Diana.” Dean said bitterly.

“ **God** won’t save me. I have to save myself. **God** won’t save me. I have to save myself.” She muttered over and over, putting her clothes back on her as best as she could. She steadied her gun, ready in case someone tried to shoot her. They stayed there for hours. Or days. He couldn’t tell. Eventually, she grew tired of waiting, yanking the piece out herself and using the duct tape in her kit to try patching herself up as best as she could, rescuers coming just a few hours later.

The next few memories he already knew what was going to happen. Diana coming back from war with shrapnel and PTSD, having to stand by as Susan had to pull the plug on her brother in law’s life support. Then to see the mother who didn’t remember her, lying up in the ICU begging for compassionate release, and holding her hand as she did so. A hunt with Susan that lead to an entire vampire coven that goes sideways once the vampires manage to cut and drain their blood before they could kill the blood sucking bastards. A surprising turn of events with drunk Susan and Diana trying to tip a cow and getting shot by a disgruntled farmer. He had thought maybe they would laugh about that one in the future. The two of them fighting a demon, then an angel, where they both failed to save the poor saps who’d been possessed.

He knew what was coming next as red bled into his line of vision. It was like a paintbrush had been slapped in the face. A wall of scarlet in front of his eyes he couldn’t shake. And then-

Lynn, facedown on the floor of a warehouse, bleeding profusely from thousands of cuts all over her body. Diana racing towards her, ripping off her flannel to try to staunch the bleeding. Susan, now as tall as ever, killing the demon with a single bullet. An ambulance had come to take them away.

Lynn was rushed to surgery and Diana paced up and down the visiting room. Susan told her to go get some coffee, but Diana didn’t go to the cafeteria. She went to a bar.

She drowned four shots of whiskey, then walked four miles to their motel. She opened the door with force, Susan hot on her heels. **_She must have driven here, knowing where Diana’d be._ **

Dean was shocked to see a younger Eileen, maybe six whole years ago, Diana stalking towards her with fury. “What happened?” She signed well, fluidly and with emotion. **_Oh, that’s how they know it._** He mused _._ _ **Yeah** ,_ ** _no shit, Dean._**

“He got the drop on us. He snuck into the room, but he didn’t make any movements and I couldn’t feel or see him.” Eileen signed back, voice even more hoarse than usual. Tears streaked her face, her whole body trembling.

“Well then next time, don’t stay behind.” Diana sneared. She pulled a flask from her bra, downing whatever was left there and throwing it onto the closest bed.

Eileen tracked the movement and fear and sorrow gave way to anger. “What the fuck, Diana! I’m a good hunter. We’ll get her help and she’ll be okay. And why the hell are you drinking again?!”

“But what if she isn’t?”

“She will be!”

“But what if _she isn’t?”_

“Diana…” Susan warned, but neither woman paid her any attention.

Eileen huffed. “She _will_ be because if she’s not, I’ll make a fucking demon deal to bring her back. I’ll ask an angel. Or she’ll fight the reaper that’ll try to take her and she’ll come back. She’ll be okay!”

“Oh… _hooray_ for you!” Diana’s tone turned sarcastic. Spite and spit flying from her mouth. “ _So_ blessed to have such a- such a _martyr_ on our hands, huh?! Oh Eileen will clean up the _fucking_ mess she made! Hip hip _hooray!”_ She threw her hands up in mock glee.

Eileen’s face turned hard. “You know what? I did the best I could, okay? He was strong and he blindsided us! If Lynn hadn’t jumped in, I’d be dead. And I’ll _never let go of that_ ! This is _my_ problem to fix, but I don’t need you to _rub my nose in it!”_

“Well, _maybe_ of you weren’t _fucking deaf_ , the demon would be dead and we wouldn’t have this _problem!_ ” Diana immediately regretted the words as they fell from her mouth, covering them by her still blood stained hands. But the damage was already done. “Eileen, I didn’t-“

Eileen picked up the closest chair and threw it at Diana, the shorter woman not even trying to dodge it. “No! Not from you! You’re my _best friend._ I _trusted_ you!”

Diana tried to apologize, signing and trying to get her to stay. But Eileen was already throwing her stuff into her duffle. She pointed her gun at Diana’s head when she wouldn’t let go of the bag, Eileen saying hoarsely. “I expected that from literally every other person on this fucking earth, but no you. Never _you!”_

Diana slumped on the bed, letting Eileen walk away. The door slammed and he heard the muffled sound of Susan and Eileen arguing.  Diana cried, patting down her pockets to pull out her US Army issued multi knife and flicked out the blade. She rolled up her sleeves and started to cut into the flesh of her arm. A slow agonizing line appeared, blood welling to the top. It wasn’t enough to kill her, but it hurt by the look on her face, and was still concerning. “One.”

He tried again to intervene, but his hands were still just misting through.

She cut again. “Two.”

“Oh God. Diana, don’t. Don’t do this to yourself. You did a bad thing that doesn’t mean-“

“Three.”

“No.”

“Four.”

“ _Diana!”_

“Five.”

“Stop!” Dean turned to see Susan rushing towards her sister. They struggled for the knife, Susan crying as much as Diana. “Not again, Dino, not again! It’s not up to you to punish yourself! Stop! Please, _stop_!”

Diana just cried, saying nothing as her sister pinned her down and grabbed the knife. Her sobs only got louder as Susan tossed the knife to the opposite side of the room. Diana thrashed, over and over again, blood leaking from her arm, Susan shushing her by singing the lullaby.

““ _Los pollitos dicen-“_

“No!”

_“Pío pío pío"_

_“Sto-ho-hop!”_

_“Cuando tienen hambre”_

“Papa! Julian! Lynn! _Eileeeeen_!”

Susan let go of her arms to stoke her sister’s face. _“Y cuando tienen frio.”_

Diana took a shuddering breath as the room faded away. “ _Y cuando… tienen frio.”_

The room fading into view was familiar, though it shouldn’t have surprised him. Diana’s fake CDC uniform looked suspiciously real

Susan gripped the handle of the mortuary drawer and pulling it firmly. She uncovered the sheet covering the victim’s face and gasped. “Eileen…” Susan trailed off as she grasped the right words.

“No. No no no. Hell no.” Diana threw her gloves at the garbage. “This is _not_ her, she is _not_ dead and I refused to think for even _one second_ otherwise. I’ve failed her. It’s my fault.”

“Diana..”

“No, it’s true. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to give up on her.”

Susan huffed. “Let’s check then, huh? Where’s her tattoos?”

Diana placed a hand on the wall, head down as she thought. “Anti-possession tatt over her heart, on her chest.”

Susan pulled the sheet down and there it was, darker now that the skin had lost its parlour. “Yes.” It was a grim response for a grim realization.

“Scar on her neck, behind her left ear. Jagged and one and a third inches.”

Susan turned the head and yes, there is was. “Check.”

Diana punched the wall. “Her gallbladder removal… there were incisions from the trocar.”

“Endoscope.” Susan corrected. She pulled the sheet down to check, missing her sister’s scowl. “Check- no, wait. There’s just the one in the middle and one on the right, instead of two. The one in her belly button isn’t here.”

“Fuck.” Diana swore. “Wait, What?”

“It’s not here. She should have four lines. She had four scars when we went swimming in Lake Tahoe that one summer.”

“So.. so that means…” Diana walked faster, pulling new gloves out and putting them on. “That means that she doesn’t..” she lifted the bottom of the sheet, exposing the pale feet into the breeze. She looked over both ankles carefully, and laughing when she came up short. “No shamrock. No shamrock! It isn’t her!” She pulled a weird looking flashlight from her pocket, extending it like a collapsible silicone funnel, and pressed one of the three buttons on the side. A deep purple light shone onto the skin. “No residual ink from a tattoo removal process either. It’s not her!”

The look of relief was short lived as they heard the doors down the hall opening. Familiar voices sounded as they hurried to hide her body, swiping up every last trace of them. They ran out the back door just as Dean had a déjà by moment of himself and Sam entering the morgue. “Talk about freaky Friday.”

Hearing a familiar sound, he turned to see the playground scene play out a second time. “Dionysis! Dionysis!”

“Again?” He sighed, but the memories kept going, on a loop he couldn’t break no matter how hard he tried. But when he got back to that filthy cabin, Diana dragging her half dead body towards the door, he’d had enough. He marched forward, grasped the doorknob and yanked, hard. The bright light came back, but this time, something was different.

The scene changed. “Dad?” Dean looked over to see his father on the couch, sleeping with his mouth open and the TV flickering in the background. “Wait- no. Hold on a minute-“

A scream from upstairs woke John. “Marry? Mary!” Dean couldn’t bring himself to go up the stairs of his old childhood home. He just couldn’t. So he stayed still as he heard his father yelling, and a four year old him ran down the stairs, holding a baby Sammy, almost tripping on the last few steps. He pulled himself out of the house to watch Azazel standing from the window, flames huge and bright behind him.

“It’s okay Sammy. I gotcha” he looked down to look at his younger self, but saw something entirely different.

He was six now, Sammy learning his first words, a good memory until:

“Good night daddy!” Sammy squealed, being tucked into the motel room bed, John leaning down to kiss him goodnight.

“Goodnight Sammy, I love you!”

Dean watched the young version of himself climb into the other side of the bed. “Goodnight daddy.”

John turned to look at him with dead eyes. “You’re too old to call me that.”

He watched himself. All life starting to seep away from his own eyes. “Good night… sir.”

It changed again.

Sammy, in bed at the motel room, the Striga over him. John bust through and shoting at it.

The whole thing had changed. Diana was nowhere. These were his memories now. “Fuck! No! Who’s doing this?”

He screamed, no longer seeing them like he was a bystander, but reliving them all over again. Every failed hunt, his first time drinking, the bar in New York where he was roofied before John found him, the time John made him hold onto the side of the Impala door, whipping his forearms with his belt for disobeying him. His father burying him alive, tossing him in a lake and expecting him to swim without lessons. His arrest before Sonny’s home, his run in with the law, the first time he ever sucked dick to pay the bills. Sam leaving him for Stanford. Ever time Sammy died, every time _he_ died, mystery spot included, something he hadn’t remembered until now. _Hell_ . **_Purgatory_ **. Lucifer wearing Sam to the prom and beating him. That one happened twice. Once in chronological order, the second time it was flickering between that and Castiel throwing him against the brick wall just days before the cemetery, yelling and hitting him over and over again.

The worst part wasn’t watching the people he loved die all over again. Oh no. The worst part was the look in their eyes as they died. Charlie, Kevin, Benny, Jo, Bobby, Eileen. And Cas. _Always_ Cas. Over and over again, Cas died in front of him. Lucifer wearing him was the worst. Only seconded by Dean being beaten half to death by a mind controlled Cas, Dean so close to letting his love for the angel slip. But it always came back to him. His burnt out wings on the gravel outside the lake house.

And it looped. Just like Diana’s had. It ran through twice, and on the third time, he was in hell. Hooks keeping him immobilized, Alistair sauntering up to him with a knife.

“Oh.. the things I’ll be doing to you, Dean-o”, he drawled.

Dean tried to yell, but the blood in his throat only made him gurgle.

“Oh, yes, I’ll really enjoy this one, don’t you th-“ he never got a chance to finish, a broadsword sticking out from the front of his chest. “Oh, my. That’s not good.” He collapsed forward, Diana standing behind him in her army clothes.

“Diana?” He gasped.

Diana’s look of accomplishment faded as soon as she met his eyes. “You can see me? Oh shit, oh Dean, fuck.” She yanked the sword out and sliced upwards in a huge arch, breaking the chains holding him in place. The cuffs at the bottom gone with another swipe, melting like butter. He collapsed forward, Diana dropping the sword to catch him. “It’s okay, I gotcha. I figured it out.”

Dean huffed in bittersweet humour. “Tell me later. How do we get out?”

“Like this.” Diana turned them and Dean lifted his head to see the desert on the opposite side of hell, the two memories blurred as one. She stopped halfway between them, the line where the fires of hell met the sand of Afghanistan. She lowered him down and she ran back for the sword. She ran faster towards him, her wound bleeding more steadily now. “The poison wants us to stay trapped, so it’s keeping us afraid. We need to not be afraid.”

“Uh, _how_?”

“Like this.” She lifted the sword with both hands up, the blade facing down. “The day Susan walked her first steps!” She yelled, loud and clear, driving the sword into the line between the memories. A loud boom echoed from the spot the sword hit, a wave emanating from it like rings in a pond. She lifted it up again and yelled, “the first time we saw Ghostbusters!” She drove the sword in again, another boom shaking the worlds. One of the flames by his foot extinguished. “Your turn. Say a happy memory. I’ll do the rest.”

Dean breathed shakily. “Mom cutting the crusts off my sandwich!”

She smiled big and happy, driving the sword into the ground. The humvee in the desert disappeared.

“Kissing Joey McKenna behind the bleachers!” Another boom and Alistair’ corpse turned to dust.

“Fourth of July, 1996!” The desert started to shake.

“Uncle Julian making pancakes with Alex!”

“Sammy and I diving off the roof like Superman and Batman!”

“The day Penelope was born!”

“LARPing with Charlie!”

“Dancing in- wait,” Diana stopped, sword raised above her head. “You- you _LARP_?”

Dean tsked at her in annoyance. “Diana!”

“Right, right. Dancing in the rain with mom and Susan!”

“Pranking Sammy!”

“The first time Lynn kissed me!”

“Seeing Sammy after hell!”

“Being at Susan and Nathan’s wedding!”

"Meeting Gunner Lawless!" 

"Making pie at Jesse and Cesar's ranch!"

“Cas being back from Purgatory!”

“Waking from the coma of ‘98!”

“Cas at the Gas n Sip!”

“Saving the kids from the rougarou!”

“Cas being alive after the soul bomb!”

“Telling Lynn I love her!”

“Mom kicking Lucifer’s ass!”

“Getting tattoos with the girls!”

“Playing catch in the park with Bobby!”

“Meeting you!”

“Meeting y-you!” He hiccuped. Diana halted the sword.

“No tears. This won’t work if weren’t not honest.”

Dean nodded, gulping back tears. He shut his eyes and tried his hardest to push his pride down. They _had_ to get out of here, his pride be damned. “Fa- falling - I can’t.  _I cant-_ I just-“

“Dean!”

She looked at him with compassion that bordered on almost pitiful, but mostly frustrated. He gulped in a breath and decided **_fuck it._ ** “Falling in love with Cas!”

The sword hit something sharp this time, the sound of shattering glass loud and overwhelming. The noise echoed. Each echo made the light in their shared consciousness brighter until it obliterated everything around them.

Dean gasped, shooting straight up in the office. “Son of a bitch, it worked.”

“Dean!” Sam launched himself into Dean’s arms, nearly knocking them both over.

“Okay, okay. I’m okay. It’s okay.”

He could feel the tears streaming onto his shirt where Sam’s face was buried. “It’s been hours, Dean. It’s almost sunrise.”

Dean turned in Sam’s grasp, looking out at the world through the glass behind him turned lighter with the rising sun. He was broken from his reverie from Diana’s hacking cough next to him. “Diana!”

“Oh! Ow. That was _extremely_ unpleasant.” She winced. Eileen fell out of the chair she’d been sitting in and cradled Diana’s head in her lap. “Eileen… you’re alive? You’re alive. I’m so sorry, I couldn’t- you don’t ever have to forgive me, I-“

Eileen didn’t care much for that, wrapping her friend’s head in her arms in an awkward hug. Eileen had been crying too. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy. She wouldn’t let go until Diana’s weak arm hit her in the shin twice.

“I’m-“ all four pairs of adult eyes landed on Jack. He looked awkward and had his arms out, signing as he spoke. He was still trembling. “I’m so sorry, Diana. I never meant to hurt you. It’s all my fault, I-“ He hushed at Diana’s hand raising up to silence him. She motioned once and he came forward, kneeling in the glass next to her.

She placed her hand on his shoulder and pulled him down into a hug. “You were great. You stopped the shifter from throwing me out the window. You threw one off your Aunt Eileen and onto the desk. So you couldn’t stop _one_ thing. So what? Even God couldn’t stop any of us doing.. well… _anything._ And are you God, Jack?”

“No. At least I don’t think so.”

Diana laughed. “Then don’t assume everything is your fault. You did your best. You fought hard and smart, unfortunately this time, the monsters were faster. But you got help. I’m okay. I’m _going_ to be okay. Dean too. All of us - because of you.”

Jack started crying harder. Dean looked down at how gentle she was with him, how easy it was to forgive him. He felt a huge chasm in his chest open, the guilt in his chest of how awful he’d treated Jack, sorrow at the thought that Cas would never see the son he wanted to raise, and the hurt at knowing that this was something ripped away from Diana. She had a _son._ She wanted to _raise him_. That was ripped from her.

Once they’d cleaned up their shit, they left the office as it was, wiping the footage of them ever being in the building. Diana and Jack road in the truck, Dean taking Sam and Eileen in the Impala back to the Wilson’s house. Even though they sped, they still took four hours before reaching the front door.

Jack seemed happier climbing out of the cab, snapping on the bracelet Diana made for him so he could by-pass the warding on the house. Lynn ran out the door to launch herself at her wife, toppling them both onto the grass. Dean couldn’t see them from where the truck blocked their view, but he could only guess they were making out.

Soon enough, they all agreed that food was in order, so Dean took it upon himself to fire up the barbecue they’d gotten the Wilsons for their wedding present and started throwing ribs and steak down. **_About time for a fucking barbecue celebration,_ ** he thought. **_Not like I just had the worst days of my life all crammed into one_ **.

Sam had asked. Asked what they saw in their minds when the poison tried to eat them away into nothing. But he couldn’t. Talking about it with Sam was too much for him to bare, especially with the ways John tortured him in order to ‘learn how to be a better hunter.’ Sam never needed to know. There was so much Sam never needed to know.

He was shaken out of his thoughts at Diana walking through the squeaky screen door to the back patio. “Maybe you should baste those ribs so they still taste like ribs instead of sauce covered bare bones.”

“Oh, ha ha.” He rolled his eyes. “I think between the two of us, I’m the pro at cooking, Mrs ‘almost set the house on fire making toast.’”

“Hey! That was _one_ time, okay! And I was running on 43 hours without sleep, like, shit man. Don’t need to bring _that_ up again.”

Dean chuckled. He was silent a moment, chewing the side of his cheek in anticipation. “How old- when you first-" 

“Seventeen.” She took a swing of the soda resting on the side table by the wall of the house. “It was three days before my birthday. I- the funeral was expensive. Mom needed professional help. I did what I had to Dean! I-“

“I know.”

They stared at each other. Silence permitted the air along with the smells of meat cooking on the dying charcoal flames.

“I know you know. I saw.”

Dean groaned. “Exactly _how_ much did you-“

“I didn’t see your penis, don’t worry. I didn’t see the act itself, but I did try to cut the guy’s throat. He was lewd and disgusting.”

Dean hummed. He remembered how rough the guy way, how he was on his knees in the hot Miami night, no one else around in the alley. He shivered at the memory of the guy throwing two hundred dollars at his face after he’d come all over his new jacket.

Diana placed a hand on his arm, bringing him back again. “You’ve seen in my head.” Her voice was soft, low so no one else would hear. “And I’ve seen in yours. I won’t tell anyone, but maybe you should. Not everything, but definitely talk about the shit John put you through. At least the belt thing and the burying you alive thing, cuz that was fucking low, even for him.” She looked down at her hand, her thumb rubbing absently up and down. “And your son, I won’t say anything about him ever if you don’t want me to, but that wasn’t your fault - with Lisa? It wasn’t. And if you ever want me to check up on him, see if he’s okay, or whatever… you tell me. Otherwise, I won’t do anything. Okay?”

He nodded, adding, “and your son? You wanna talk about him?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Dean turned the heat on low, pulling up the muskoka chairs he’d made with Sam and Jack a few weeks ago. He held her hand in his, rubbing the back of it in comforting circles with his thumb. “A long time ago, when I was turning tricks, I had a regular who was really great. Always paid cash and paid more than any other john I ever saw. But the condom broke, and I got pregnant. I went to stay with my aunts in North Bend, Indiana and they were great until... I gave birth to the most beautiful baby boy.” Her jaw tightened. “They ripped him from me. I don’t know where he is, or even if-“ She shuddered in a breath, head bowing down. “If he’s a- if he’s a-“  

“Alive.” Dean finished for her. She just nodded numbly. “We can help look for him, we have the resources.”

A hysterical laugh bubbled up inside her. “I doubt he’d want to meet me. But I’ve- I never stopped looking. I’ve had cops all over the country looking for him. That’s actually how I know Jody. I was caught.. ahem. ‘Working’. I explained to her what happened and that I needed money for a private eye. She convinced me to join the army, serve my country, get contacts, not just money for mom and Sue. I greased palms, I slept with married senators to blackmail, I -“

Eileen grabbed her up into a hug, effectively stopping her babbling, letting her cry into her flannel. Dean looked to Eileen, her face stony.

 _“You knew?”_ He signed, mouthing the words along.

She nodded back. _“We were best friends once.”_ She moved to put a hand on Diana’s shoulder. “It’s okay Di.”

Diana shook. “I thought you were in the living room?”

Eileen looked sheepish. “I was spying on you.” Diana gasped at her. “I wanted to make sure you were alright, and then I saw you say the word ‘son’ over again, and I-“

Diana laughed. “Thanks. I’m sorry,” she breathed, ready to launch into more when Eileen’s hand covered her mouth to shut her up.

“Enough. I forgive you.”

Diana signed back, // _but I don’t forgive myself. I never will._ //

“Who picks the crime for the sinner?” Eileen asked, moving her hand away.

“The one the sinner has wronged.”

Eileen nodded. “And you’ve wronged me. And I say you don’t suffer anymore.” Her eyes turned soft. “I missed my best friend too long. When I was hunting for the banshee that killed my parents, you know what I kept thinking? ‘Diana would go into that retirement community in full old person makeup and pretend to be an interested future resident while she made me push her in a wheelchair.’” The three of them laughed, Dean shaking as he stood. “I missed you everyday you were gone. I didn’t see the 3 of you for five years!”

“Five years, four months, and sixteen days.” Diana said.

Eileen pursed her lips in thought. “You counted.”

Diana nodded. “I counted. Seeing you alive again in that god awful cave, half dead, but breathing… my heart fell to my ass.”

“I should have gone with Susan when she showed up at my safehouse and told me to come with you to Belize.”

“It was… un-Belize-able!”

Dean and Eileen groaned. “Your jokes still aren’t funny.”

“What? I’m hilarious!”

“No, you’re not!” Eileen and Dean agreed, making Diana groan this time.

Dean turned back to the meat, trading jokes with the women sipping their sodas in the chairs, happy to be home. He didn’t know when this felt like a second home to him after the bunker, but when Cas came outside with a familiar looking soccer ball with Jack and Susan, he started to figure out why.

Later, washing dishes with Diana, he asked her a burning question: “how did y’all know Bobby?”

“Hmm?” She spared him a small look, heaving the plate to towel dry. “Which Bobby?”

“Singer.”

“Huh? I don’t know any- oh wait! Yeah, him. He was a good man. He didn’t know we were hunters at the time, but mom knew he hunted. She would say the angels led us to him. Our trailer broke down in Sioux Falls when I was about ten and we needed Bobby to fix it for us but we weren’t doing so well financially. He helped us a lot. A few years later, it happened again and mom demanded she cook Bobby dinner as a thank you for giving us a discount on the work.” She smiled, a good memory coming to her. She decided not to share it though, instead saying, “he was a good man. I heard he was murdered a few years back.”

“Yep. Leviathan”

“Shit. He was good to us. Never had any reason to see him get mixed up in any Leviathan shit, but Jody said he practically raised you, and… I saw him in your head.”

“Yeah.”

It was silent in the kitchen, the only sound was of the scrub brush as Dean went over the saucy plate. Diana inhaled deeply, adding, “he was your Uncle Julian.”

Dean winced, unsure of what to say. Yeah, Bobby was there for him and raised them when John wouldn’t, or couldn’t, but he wasn’t stolen from them when they were young, he wasn’t gay, and he wasn’t… but did it matter? He was their uncle and he was murdered, dying despite medical intervention. He just nodded numbly to her statement, not trusting his own voice.

“Hmm. I know it’s not the same, but there were things about my own father I didn’t like that you didn’t see.” That was shocking. He’d only seen two memories of him, and one of which was the man’s own funeral. “He wouldn’t get mom the help she needed, wouldn’t give Susan and me stability. Kids need stability both financially and emotionally, and we could have had that if he’d gotten mom help. But he chose for her to be happy rather than healthy and safe, and that really fucked me up.” Diana gasped in a shaky laugh, bitter and filled with tears. “You have _no idea_ how many of my father’s messes Julian cleaned up before he died. Abuela said he was even cleaning them up after he was gone, probably haunting whatever stranger helped us whenever things got rough, but I think that was just wishful thinking. I don’t know. All I know is that whenever things were tense at home, we stayed with Julian and Alex and they’d make us chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs, and we didn’t feel so alone and scared anymore.”

Dean hummed, a smile to his face. “Is that why they called you Dino?”

She laughed, a tear falling from her eye, rubbing at it gently with the back of her hand. “Nah. I fucked up saying my own name when we were kids so much that I called myself Dino-isys and I thought it was funny so I demanded Julian call me Dino.” Dean laughed so hard at that, he damn near dropped his plate. “Hey! It’s not _that_ funny!”

“The hell you talking about? That’s the funniest shit I’ve ever heard in _my life!_ ” She shoved at his shoulder, still playful enough that there was no edge to it, but he calmed down. “I just thought maybe you were into dinosaurs a lot as a kid.”

“Oh, I definitely was. Had a dinosaur phase before our Ghostbuster obsession. Julian was pretty good at painting and he did the coolest mural for my room. I wish I had pictures of it still. There was a tiny brontosaurus riding the head of a triceratops. It was-“ she laughed, tears falling down her eyes faster. “It was the funniest and coolest thing ever.”

He dropped the now washed plate into the rinse sink and wrapped her in a hug. His hands were soapy but she didn’t seem to mind, hugging him back. They didn’t need to say anything. Two hunters, minds shadowed with awful pasts full of violence and death clung to each other in the kitchen while everyone else was asleep, quiet reminders that they’d be okay. It wasn’t today, but one day. One day, they would be.


	9. Relapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and cas are in need of a road trip, so they decide on going to see Claire up at her new college in montreal. But Dean's been pushing down and ignoring his own issues in a desperate attempt to be there for his friend and ... something's gotta give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> relapse of an addiction in this chapter and some angst because of who I am as a person.

**** Dean looked up from his paper to see Diana and Eileen on Skype having an aggressive argument using only exaggerated hand signs, neither of their lips moving. Diana looked upset but he knew better than to butt in.  He sipped his coffee and went through the newspaper, laughter filtering from the laptop. He peered over the publication to see Diana laughing as well, clutching her sides as Eileen did the same on her own end. 

“What’s so funny?”

She wiped her face, signing as she spoke. “I told her to stop shouting at me.”

“Oh, ha ha. That’s actually kind of funny.”

“No man. She replied _‘oh what? Should I use my_ **inside hands** ** _i_** _nstead then?!’_ ” They looked at one another and burst out into another round of uproarious laughter. 

There never was a single dull moment in the Wilson household. 

He had a routine now, after living here for a little over a year. He’d wake up, make breakfast for everyone, play with Penelope, go for a shower, and do a few odd jobs around the house while he waited for the girls to come home so they could have dinner together. In between, he’s hang out with Castiel, helping the man in coming to terms with his new reality. It was… nice. Sort of. 

He wished he could do more, so after Castiel had started to come to live with them, Dean took up working part time at the local mechanic shop. The owners would pay him under the table for helping during the weekends, and after he pulled up in the Impala one Sunday afternoon, he was propositioned by a regular customer to fix up her grandfather’s old Cadillac De’Ville. Her satisfaction at his hard work turned into a reference, which turned into a small but steady stream of clients who paid him to fix up their old rides. It was good. He felt useful and actually earned an honest living for the first time in a long time. 

Dean came home from the shop the next day, sweatier and more run down than usual. He heard a groan from the living room and stepped in to see Diana sleeping on the couch. “Ugh… everything okay with you and Lynn?”

Diana yawned and stretched her arms above her head. “Yeah, we're fine.”

“We are NOT fine.” The both turned around to see Lynn standing at the foot of the stairs, hair in total disarray. “There is a damn  _ spiders nest _ somewhere in our room and I woke up in the middle of the night to one  _ crawling on my face! _ ” 

“Babe,” Diana stood. “Look, I'll move the furniture out and get rid of them, I promise. It's an old house and sometimes-”

“ **Nope** . Nope, I refuse. I'm going back to my office.” And as if that were final, she turned around and went to the back of the house. 

“Did she sleep in her office?” Dean asked, only to be interrupted by Penelope’s frustrated whining. 

Diana sighed and nodded. She shrugged and moved into the kitchen to pick up her insistent niece. “She's got a huge fear of them. I can't blame her. Waking up to a bug on the face is pretty scary, but she knows I'm there to squash them so..” Diana shrugged as Penelope reached a sleepy hand out to tug on her hair. She winced but didn't swat her niece’s hand away, choosing to blow raspberries on the little chubby cheeks instead. The room was soon full of the sound of happy squeals. 

“Aunt Dino, that’s gross!” Penelope giggled wiping at her cheek in fake disgust, finally awake enough to have a conversation. “Can I have pancakes?”

“Uncle Dean is making breakfast, ask him.”

“I am? Hmm. This is news to me.” He cocked an eyebrow at them in challenge. “But I guess if you want something other than cereal or burnt toast, I-“

“Hey! I resent that. I only burnt it a little!”

Dean looked at her incredulously. “Diana. It was so burnt it was crying for some aloe Vera gel!” 

Penelope squealed with laughter, kicking her feet in her booster seat. Even though her mother was a giantess, it seemed she took more after Nathan than they all thought. Her hair was still Wilson hair, though, already long enough to hit at her waist. Diana would braid it for her almost every morning, coming up with some wild designs whenever she could. Pep  _ loved it _ . She would often come into Dean’s room with wild flowers in her hair, lamenting on and on about how awful it was being trapped in her tower of mistakes - whatever the hell  _ that _ meant. She’d giggle when he’d call her Rapunzel, so he kept doing it. She was old enough to start losing teeth soon, and he was trying to do everything he could to keep her in her youth all that much more. He knew how fast it left you. 

Susan came in yawning just as Lynn was heading out. “Hey Lynn, do you-” 

“Lynn, wait!” Diana tripped over Brutus on her way to get her wife. 

“Nope!” Lynn grabbed her scarf and ran out before Diana could finish. Diana rolled her eyes and huffed back into the kitchen. 

Susan rolled her shoulders, leaning against Dean as she undid her shoes. “What are those two idiots fighting about  _ now?” _

“Spider in the bedroom. Lynn’s convinced there's a nest in there.”

Susan groaned. “At least they'll make up by the end of the day. They were  _ much  _ worse before they got together.”

Dean laughed. “What do you mean?”

“They'd argue over the stupidest things, often just starting fights just to get a rise out of each other. And always,  _ always _ in front of me. If I had to spend one more second standing between them as they stared into each other's eyes, I swear I would have locked them in a room together until they just…. you know.” She made a vague hand gesture. 

“Oh. Oooooh. Why didn't you?”

Susan let down her braid, pulling the pins from her scalp and depositing them in Dean’s open hand. “Who do you think got them in the Denny’s parking lot in the first place.” 

Dean snorted a laugh, helping Susan pick out a few stubborn pins as the braid fell off it’s perch atop her head. This was a routine for them. Susan would come home exhausted, working a double to pull in more cash, leaning on whomever was nearest and pulled out the bobby pins from her hair before sliding to the floor to be slobbered on by Artemis or Brutus. Today seemed to be her lucky day though when she was greeted by both. “Shall I just leave your mail for you on the floor from now on?”

“Yes. Tell my daughter I love her and tell my sister she’s an idiot.”

“We can  _ hear you! _ ” Diana shouted back, annoyed. 

“I can almost hear them now.”

“Slut!”

“Whore!” 

Diana huffed, Dean able to hear her muttering to Penelope to never repeat the words, no doubt starting to do her hair up in a similar style to her now napping mother. 

 

\---------------------------------

 

Once a week, Dean would sit on the couch in Lynn’s home office and they’d talk. He didn’t want to call it therapy - even though that’s exactly what it was - so he called it an ‘appointment’ instead. That’d talk, usually about Pep, before delving deep into things he wasn’t really sure he’d told anyone else, well, ever. 

“So, yeah. Just gotta keep hustling, you know? Help as much as I can till I keel over.”

Lynn stopped her notes at his tone, placing the notebook onto the desk behind her. “What is it Dean? Do you not think you're worth healing?”

He laughed dryly at that. He rubbed at Artemis’ ears, the giant dog all but engulfing the entirety of the couch in Lynn’s office. Brutus let out a little kick on the knee of Dean’s jeans. “It's- the way you said that. I- I thought you'd say “deserve to be saved” is all.”

“Saved? Saved from what exactly?”

“It's- nothing. Never mind.” But Lynn had that look. The look that made him squirm until he told her everything. “It's something an old friend told me once. It was before we put Lucifer in the cage - the first time that is. And he just looked at me like… like he couldn't believe that I thought so little of myself. But I did. I sometimes still … do. Not… not as much now, you know, since we started” he gestured to the room around them. “But I just-” he shrugged. The more he talked about it, the tighter his throat felt. 

“You're a trauma and abuse survivor Dean.”

“You make it sound so bad.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, not being able to meet her eyes. 

The pen in Lynn's hand shattered. Dean looked up to see her face neutral but her hands were in fists so tight the knuckles turned white. “Dean… if you were to pass by a child right now, and you would see their parent treat them like how you were treated by  _ John,”  _ she sneered his name, “on any given week of your childhood, what would you do?”

Dean looked at his lap. All the times John had hit him, smacked him upside the head, the time he'd had Dean hold onto the side of the Impala as he brought down his belt over and over on his arms for missing a shot, for forgetting to pick up Sammy from school, for saying too much to a waitress, or a park ranger, or a motel manager. Dean’s face stung, his arms hurt and his knees wanted to give way just at the thought that some kid somewhere would be facing the exact same thing. “I’d rip that parent’s lungs out.” Now his own fists matched Lynn's. 

Lynn’s voice turned soft. “You've not only been abused by a parent, but you've also have PTSD from hell, purgatory and your overall life as a hunter. The fact that you can't see your mind and the abuse it holds onto, doesn't make it any less there. You've been taught from an early age to hate yourself, to push anything down inside, to become robotic. To acknowledge that fear, that hurt, or any emotion is terrifying, but doable.” She reached out and gently unfurled his fists. “You're an adult now and unlearning that behaviour is not an easy one, but I'm glad to see you working toward it. On a professional standpoint, I think you've made great progress and I hope we can continue with working through the trauma and self-loathing you've collected over the years. As a friend however, I'm proud to see you here. I may have not liked you when I first met you, but you already know why..” they both chuckled at the memory of both of them holding knives in that motel room five years ago. “But you're trying and it shows. We're also lucky to have you here with us, as a part of our family.” Tears threatened to fall from his eyes, and for the first time in years, he let them. She handed him the tissue box and he readily took several. “The thing is, save for Pep, all of us in this house have a lot of trauma to work through.” His eyes flicked to her exposed forearm, seeing the faint lines of the cut scars she usually covered with foundation littering her skin. “Even Artemis. He was a rescue and he used to wet himself every time the house creaked wrong. But progress is hard work, and it's boring. It's upkeep like brushing your teeth or doing laundry. It's necessary but mind numbingly boring. But we work through it  _ together.” _

_ “ _ Artemis was really that scared?” He asked, the big sweet doggie eyes boring into his. 

“Yes. He was so tough at the rescue but the house must have reminded him of where he used to be kept.” Her voice lowered then. “They kept him in a dogfighting ring, and he was so badly beaten when we got that they told us he wouldn't survive the night.”

“How… how did he survive?”

“Love.” It seemed too simple, too ludicrous but as Artemis rubbed his face at Dean's thigh he could see the love the dog felt for him; the love Artemis was given after years of torture. “Diana slept next to his bed four nights in a row. He growled and snarled at her but she kept on sleeping there. By the fifth night, he curled up right at her tummy, off his bed and onto the floor. He's slept in our bed ever since. He took a risk trusting people again after being nothing but a punching bag by them for years, but he trusted the right people. It's hard to trust and be open Dean, but it's worth it in the long run if it helps you sleep easier at night.”

Dean stared down at the dog, patting Artemis on the head and seeing his tail whack against the side of the chair. He was a good dog, and one that he'd never expected to have had such an awful past. But if he could go through all that and be a big softie, Dean thought he deserved it too. “What… what do I do when I can't talk about it? Not that I don't want to, cuz I weirdly do. But that… I can't.”

She paused writing something in her notes. “Because you physically can't or because of a promise you made?”

“It hurts to talk about it. And the person may not… remember. It wouldn't be fair to tell them about this awful thing they have no recollection of.”

“Hmm. You're talking about Cas.” It wasn't a question and Dean could only nod, turning his hand to scratch at Artemis’ ears. “Then I think you should start smaller. Start with something easy, maybe a memory that seems silly, like grocery shopping together or the first hunt you did together - obviously don't use specifics because I don't think he's ready for all that gore - but something small.”

Dean thought about it, silence filling the room save for the ticking clock on her desk. “A car ride.” He finally looked up. “We sometimes rode in the car together, I could talk about that?” 

“Yeah, that works. You could play a song you've both heard and see what he could remember if you're comfortable.”

“Like, recreate it?”

“Sure. If it's a happy memory, you could recreate it.”

Not two hours later, Cas and Dean found themselves cruising down the highway in the impala with a Zeppelin tape playing on low. Dean kept throwing glances at Castiel but was met only with the back of the other man's head. Dean tried making small talk but it was too forced. He hoped they would come across a decent rest stop soon so they could get a lighter air of conversation for the rest of the drive to South Dakota. 

It was another hundred miles before Cas spoke. “Does she like me?”

Dean looked over to him, and wanted to pull over immediately. Castiel looked much like he did in Rufus’ cabin when Hester showed up. Drawn into himself, scared and unsure. “Who, Claire?”

Castiel nodded. “We’ve spoken a few times, but I imagine finding out your parent is not actually dead after all those years is bound to leave a hole in a child's heart.”

Dean knew. When he saw Mary after Amara had brought her back felt like taking a javelin to the heart. But this wasn't the same. Cas wasn't Claire's father, just inhabiting his vessel. But he couldn't tell him that without Cas opening the door and jumping from the moving vehicle. “She missed you. She's a good kid - young person - and we'd often talk-” he shut his mouth.  _ Yeah Cas she missed you,  _ he thought.  _ I had to be the one to tell her you were dead and she took it poorly, but not worse than I did when I almost stepped off that bridge to plummet myself to my death when I thought you were dead for good.  _

“You two are close?” Was all Castiel responded with. 

“Yeah… I guess. We're all kind of one big, although really weird, family. Sam and I made sure Claire was doing okay and she calls to check in. She missed you and she's been excited to see you since we found out you were…. found out you were back.”

Castiel nodded, looking back down at his fingers again. “Maybe I should get her a gift of some kind. Maybe a book or a movie? I don't-” he huffed in annoyance. “Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you help me get a gift for Claire?”

“Uh.. sure, yeah of course. So long as it's not Grumpy Cat again.”

“I got her an unhappy kitten?”

Dean huffed a laugh. “No Cas, it's a - it was a stuffed animal of a cat with a grumpy expression on its face.”

“Oh. Okay. Why?”

“I dunno man, people like that?”

“No,” Cas clarified, “why did I get it for her?”

“Because it was either that or the Minecraft shirt and there was no way we were getting that.”

“We?” Dean glanced over to see Castiel raising an eyebrow at him in question. He felt like he was in a damn interrogation. 

“I uh. I went there with you.” He could feel himself blushing which was  _ not  _ supposed to happen damnit!

Cas hummed in thought. “We were close, you and I.”

“Yeah,” was all Dean could managed to croak out. 

The car ride was silent for a few more hours until they pulled off at a truck stop with a fairly clean diner. Cas folded down Dean's menu as soon as it went up and looked straight through him. “Thank you Dean.”

“Uh… for what?”

Cas just shrugged. “It seems like you and I have been through a lot. I know you and the others won't talk about it much, so that means that there must have been some things both of us have done wrong. But…” he put his own menu down and put a hand over Dean's on the table. “You're still here. You're driving 19 hours out of your way to take me to see my daughter, you've been kind to me, and you've even taken the blame for me when I accidentally blew up the microwave at the hospital.”

“Blow up is kind of an extreme word.”

Cas chuckled. “Either way, you're still here and I'm eternally grateful. I hope that I regain my memories soon, but if not, I hope we can still be friends.”

“Cas… of course we'll still be friends.  _ Always _ , man.”

Castiel smiled at that, eyes crinkling as he looked down at his menu. Dean opened his mouth to say something when Cas beat him to it. “Dean, they have pecan pie here. It says they bake all their cakes and pies in house. Should we get some pie now and some for the road?” He looked up at the hunter. 

Dean stared. He tried thinking over and over about anything in the last year that would have given Cas a shred of a clue that he liked pie, and besides the time Susan made pumpkin pie at Christmas, he couldn't think of a single other instance where the two of them ever spoke, hinted at or ate pie together. “Yeah,” he choked out. “Pie sounds good.”  **_Don't you cry in this diner Winchester._ **

“Did I-” now Dean could see the wheels turning in his friend's brain. “Did I do something wrong?” 

He shook the cobwebs from his head. “No Cas. Just… I really love pie. Like, an almost obsessive amount. Pecan’s my favourite.” 

“Oh. Okaaaaaaay…?” Cas tilted his head, trying desperately to connect the dots. “What does that have anything to do with the look you gave me? A lot of people like pie, even Susan loves it and- oh. Oh! I'm remembering your favourite pie.” Dean nodded, smile breaking out over his face. “Dean! I remembered. Well, I guess we'll have to buy an entire pie then, won't we?” 

The server chose that exact moment to come take their orders. Cas ordered coffee, asking immediately if they could make a whole pie for them to take home after their meal. He then went on to order Dean's usual of a burger and fries and ordered the same for himself. It felt almost like old times. They didn't talk much, mostly commenting on what to get Susan  for her upcoming birthday and how Dean found Brutus rolling himself all over his clean laundry the second it got out of the dryer. When the check came, Dean paid and Cas carried out their pie in a bright pink to-go box. They intended to keep driving until they were at least in Illinois, but Dean's consistent yawning meant Cas deciding for both of them to call it a night. 

The motel they found was a bit nicer than they were used to, the front desk made sometime in the current decade and the check in monitor was a tablet. “Just the one room then dears?” The manager was an older woman, a grandmother three times over if the photos behind the counter were any indication. “Will you be needing just the one bed then? We have a California king that just opened up.”

“Oh.. ah, n- no thank you.” Dean rubbed at the back of his neck, blush rising on his cheeks. “Just two queens if you have them ‘mam.” 

She looked from one to the other with a sheepish look on her face but said nothing about it. “We have one left. Room 401. A bit cosier than the others but you're just staying the one night, correct?” 

They left the office, Dean's mood turned almost sour. He felt a little sick at thinking how easily it could have been to get just the one bed for the two of them. He could have lied, could have let Cas stay in the car, could have told him it was the only room left. But he didn’t. He couldn't.  **_His memory is still wiped. He doesn't remember you_ ** _.  _ That left a sour taste in his mouth and in his gut. More than a little sour, throwing up the pie he'd eaten earlier the second they got into the room, barely missing the toilet. 

He took the first shift to shower, trying to calm himself down. He really needed to get a grip, push through the bad emotions and focus on the good of this trip. For one thing, Claire was in college now, and doing really well. She’d headed everyone’s advice and gotten into a Mythology Studies program in Montreal, much to Jody’s chagrin. She was happy her pseudo daughter was off hunting for a bit and gaining an education, but she worried with Claire being so damn far away. Dean was glad to see the kid and report back to Jody hopefully good news. 

The hot water did wonders on his back, the shower pressure being far stronger than he was used to, and by the time he was done, his mood lifted too. He laid up in bed after, propping his swollen ankles on a pillow as cas disappeared for his own shower. Waiting for Cas to finish, Dean texted the Wilsons in the group chat to let them know he and Cas were stopping in for the night. The group chat between the Wilsons and Winchesters - plus Lahey, but who knows; maybe Eileen would change her name once they were married - was always full. He got back half a dozen gifs in response, only four of them actually deciding to play on his phone. As he settled into bed, he chuckled at the back and forth Eileen and Lynn on the chat, debating on whether or not a vampire and ghoul could successfully mate. 

Dean finally drifted off to sleep, only to be awakened twenty minutes later. He switched on the light after grabbing for his gun, but there wasn't any intruder. But for Cas, something seemed to be intruding his sleep. He tossed his head back and forth on the pillow, sweat sticking his hair to his skin, face scrunched up while his eyes stayed closed. Dean jumped from the bed, gun forgotten as he sat on Cas’s bed and gently shook him awake. “Cas, come on man, wake up. It's just a dream, it's just a dream Cas.” 

Castiel woke violently, springing up from the bed Exorcist style and curled up with his knees to his chest as his back hit the headboard. “Dean. Is it… is it over? Was it just a nightmare?” 

“What was it?” Dean hovered his hand above his knee, unsure if Cas would flinch or not. 

“I-” Cas shuddered. “I was in a graveyard. There was an argument of some kind, and Sam… Sam was very angry with me, but it wasn't Sam, not really. But he snapped his fingers and I-” Cas shivered. “I woke up in the middle of a lake, naked for some reason and a woman took me in, but she was full of black ooze, and I couldn't mop it up fast enough, there was just so  _ much goo  _ oozing from the walls and the ceiling. Then I was in a forest, and there was something chasing me, and I couldn't get away. I tried but then something else would chase me, but it… I just kept dodging them. But just when you woke me? I was being tortured.” His voice turned low. “I didn't see their face, but they kept stabbing me, over and over again asking me to submit but I don't know to what. But it's all crazy right? I probably watched too much tv at the ward because none of that happened. Right?” 

Under normal circumstances, Dean would have lied and said that they were just nightmares, and that he should just forget about them. But this was Cas. “Cas, nothing can hurt you in here. See my gun? It can kill any monster that goes bump in the night. You're safe here with me, okay?”

Cas nodded. “So they  _ did  _ happen then?” Dean elected to say nothing, which made it obvious that it did. “Oh. So there's a murder forest and something that oozes black goop. Fantastic.”

“You're remembering the sacrifices you made to save mankind.” Dean reached for his hands, uncaring anymore. “Sam was possessed and you bought us some time to fix it when you were…. in, exploded. And in purgatory, you kept all those monsters from getting their hands on me by leading them away from me.” 

Cas looked down at their joined hands. “Purgatory is real?” He shuddered a breath, centering himself.  “Purgatory is real. Makes sense since literally  _ nothing else _ does. But I… why am I remembering your favourite pie but also every moment I almost died?” 

“It's not fair Cas. But you’re still remembering. That's progress.” He rubbed at his friend’s back, trying to calm him down enough to coax him back to sleep. “It’s gonna be okay, Cas, I know it is. And I know this is scary for you, but you’re not alone here. See? I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’ll get sick of me,” he muttered back. “You’ll get sick of having to baby me and wait until I go back to myself - what if that never happens?” Cas shifted on the bed. His face was full of fear and trepidation and Dean did not like that one  _ bit _ . “What if I’m never going to be  _ him _ .”

“What?”

“Him! The Castiel I used to be? What if this is all you’re left with? A husk of a man who can only remember bits of horrors I’ve inflicted and your favourite pie flavour? Huh? What then?”

Dean wished Lynn prepared him for this. **_I should have talked to her about this - about the possibility of him never being back to 100% or even 65% himself!_** But Lynn had still armed him with tools, even with how to deal with a crisis of faith; whether she knew it or not. “Cas, listen very carefully to me, okay? You’re my friend, now and forever. I _promise_ I have your back, okay? I’m always going to be here for you, and I’ll always want you in my corner, cursed or not. Okay?”

Some small semblance of recognition flashed in his eyes and a tiny smile formed on Castiel’s face. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Dean rubbed his hands on Cas’ arms before getting up to go back to sleep in his own bed.

“Wait!” He looked down to see Cas’ palm wrapped tightly around his wrist, stopping him. “Could you- I don’t want to ask this, if it’s too much, but-”

Dean closed his eyes, pulling his head out his ass and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, okay, just… move over. I sleep on this side normally.” 

Castiel let loose a small smile and didas asked. Dean shuffled next to him, the two facing each other as Cas shut off the light. If they fell asleep holding hands, that was no one’s business but their own. 

 

\-----------------------

 

Claire’s hair was shorter than last time he’d seen her, still too long to hunt but that was probably for the best. Her reaction to see Castiel sans trench coat for the first time in years was far better than Dean expected but it was still far from great. She was sitting in the university cafeteria waiting for them, hands wringing on the table, coffee long forgotten. As soon as she spotted them she stood. Cas grabbed onto Dean’s elbow when he saw her, suddenly looking very scared. “It's okay Cas. She wouldn't be here if she didn't want to see you.” Castiel only nodded. 

“Hey.” Claire reached to pull Dean into a hug as they came next to the table. “Good to see you old man.” 

Dean huffed at the sentiment but hugged anyways. He moved to the side to let Cas and Claire awkwardly hug each other. Claire had an unreadable expression on her face where Cas’ was filled with a hundred different emotions flickering from one to the next at a mile a minute. 

“I uh… Dean told me that students in university and college usually don't get a chance to eat out a lot, so I got you a notebook and a few gift cards for fast food restaurants. I hope it's an acceptable very late birthday gift.” Castiel looked so nervous, hand thrusting the small bag towards her. She took it with a raised eyebrow, and sat to open it. The table had four chairs, Dean electing to sit opposite Claire. Cas just stood there, completely unsure of himself. 

Claire pulled out the notebook first, unwrapping it from the plastic wrap the factory put on it before shipping. She ran a hand slowly over the leather, expression turning soft. The gesture wasn't lost on her that it was a journal much like Dean's, the one she tried pilfering off him on more than one occasion. She grabbed the bag to shake the envelope loose and opened it earnestly. On the card was a picture of Grumpy Cat and the word  **‘NO’** bolded in red glitter. Inside were several gift cards and she took her time reading whatever it was that Cas wrote inside. She laughed openly and looked up at him. “Thanks Cas. It's great.” 

He smiled, nerves starting to leach from his body as he sat next to Dean. “I'm so glad. I was debating between several different books but there were so many options…” he trailed off, looking down at his hands. He stayed that way for several seconds before Dean cleared his throat. “Oh. I did it again, didn't I?” 

“Yeah, but it's okay.” Dean smiled back at Cas, gently pulling his fingers apart and placing the hands flat on the table. “It wasn't as long as the last few times.”

“Hey!” Claire grabbed at Cas’ arm to get their attention. “The college down a few blocks has a theatre program and they do plays on the cheap. My friend gave me her tickets for tonight's play cuz she can't go, and I know it's not usually our kind of thing, but…” 

Dean knew when Claire was lying through her teeth. It was obvious she bought the tickets herself with the sole intention of doing something with her sort of father. He didn't say anything of the sort to either of them on the matter but only nodded and tried to encourage Cas into going. “It'll be fun Cas! You haven't been to a play yet this year.” 

Castiel shuffled in his seat unsure. “I don't- can Dean come? Would that be okay with you Claire?” 

“Duh.” She reached into her bag to pull out her wallet. She opened it to pull out three tickets. “I told her I'd only take them if there were three.” 

The play turned out to be far more entertaining than Dean had pictured it. The college had done their rendition of _ A Midsummer Night's Dream  _ in a more modern comedy. Oberon was dressed in full drag for the evening,  Demetrius entering every scene in wheelie shoes, and all the Athenians were dressed in classic 2011 New York hipster wear - the fairies wearing clothing closer to what was expected of them. Dean laughed more that night watching Hermia ‘looking’ for Lisandre with her binoculars facing the wrong way than he did the past few months. Claire seemed pleased with this when they discussed it over greasy pizza at the dinner near her dorm. Castiel even laughed at the hilarious use of ‘love juice’ being just Gatorade in a Windex spray bottle. He said  _ Shakespeare would be proud _ , making Claire and Dean wonder if Castiel knew the man in real life at one point. 

The weekend went like that, mostly. Castiel would remember something but not quite, and Dean and Claire were left wondering what to say or do to make it less awkward, mostly failing and causing an uncomfortable silence to befall them. 

It also was becoming difficult for Dean in another way: people were flirting. A LOT. But not with Dean “Ladies Man” Winchester, oh no. They were flirting with  _ Cas _ .

Everywhere they went, men, women, _everyone_ flirted with Cas, complimenting his eyes, his hair, his jeans, his  _ ass, _ and it was becoming too much. Castiel didn’t realize the magnitude of it all, wasn’t realizing they were being anything other than polite, which was unnerving. A woman here would touch his arm when they were bringing in Claire’s groceries to her dorm commenting on ‘how strong’ he was, a man there would lick his lips while telling Castiel the specials of the day as his eyes tracked down the former angel’s body… even a  _ mime _ stopped part way through their performance to imitate their heart leaping from their chest at the sight of Castiel’s shy smile. 

So Dean got drunk. It had actually been years since he has been drunk last, seeing as how he had moved semi-permanently to the Wilson’s and they had a strict no alcohol policy. Bars weren’t exactly fun where they were anyways, most of the residents being retired. But here, in the hotel room he was sharing with Cas, he was drunk. 

**_It’s not your right,_ ** he thought.  **_It’s not your right to get jealous when a waitress flirts with him, or a cashier looks at him suggestively. He’s your friend and nothing more. You can’t make it be more._ **

Claire and Castiel had gone on a walking tour of the historic sights but Dean wasn’t feeling up to it. He spent most of the trip hyper aware of Cas and the various people who were undressing his friend with their eyes. He didn’t want Claire to be suspicious of him when she would inevitably catch him staring at her ‘Sort Of Dad’. So he stayed in to watch tv and rest. Unfortunately for him, every time he changed the channel, another cheesy rom com was on, or a stupid cereal commercial with two guys who sort of looked like them pouring cereal for their daughter, or even some news story about a couple who reunited online after decades apart. So he drank. He drank the entire minibar and then some. 

He was just about to yell at Countess Weatherbottom to ditch the cotillion when his phone rang. “‘Ello?”

Diana’s voice rang out over the speaker, a touch of static on the other line. “Hey Dean, just checking in to see how the trip is.”

“Ugh. Diana, it’s. Well it’s like this see, oh damnit” the remote fell. 

A pause from the other line stretched far too long, Dean retrieving his remote and switching the channel twice before he heard a response. “Are you drunk?”

Dean paused, trying to sound as sober as possible. “No…”

“Dean” Diana’s voice was firm. 

“What! I’m not!”

“Dean!"

He huffed, posturing deflating despite being alone in the room. “Ok I am. I just… it’s so much I can’t handle it sometimes.”

“Dean,”

“Listen Diana, I - ooph!” Dean dropped the phone as he fell, abdomen shooting horrible pain. “Ow, fuck!” 

“Dean!” Her tinny voice rang through on the other end. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

“Stomach!” He yelled, crawling across the floor towards the phone. “Stomach hurts!” 

“How does it feel? Sharp? Shooting? Achy? Stabby?”

He groaned as he got close enough to turn it on speaker. “Stabby. Definitely stabby.”

Diana cursed under her breath. “Swollen ankles?”

“All week.”

“Shit. Shit! Urine colour?”

Dean scrunched his face in disgust. “ _ Urine colour? _ Diana, it probably just bad food poisoning!” 

“Dean! Fuck off!” Diana’s voice was angry now. Oh boy,  _ suuuuper _ angry. “ _ URINE COLOUR! _ ” 

“Kinda dark.”

Her voice fell a bit, quieter but still angry and firm. “How long?”

“Maybe a month?” 

“Fuuuuck. Call 911 on the motel phone.”

“What? Why?”

“Do it!” She didn’t waste any time, turning her face away from the phone’s receiver to shout something at Susan. Dean thought maybe she’d forgotten about him until she asked him more questions. “Loss of appetite? Nausea and vomiting?” 

He thought back to the pie with Cas. He’d puked that one piece not forty minutes after. “Oh shit. Diana, what is this?”

The lock clicked, the doorknob rattling as it was opened. “Dean, I forgot my- Dean!” Cas rushed forward, falling to his side. “What’s wrong? What happened? are you hurt?” 

All he could do was whimper in pain. “Call 911.”

Claire whipped her phone out, already dialing. “Hello? I need an ambulance at 2464 Jean Cartier Way Road, motel room number sixteen. Yes, first floor. My friend collapsed, he has abdominal pains and he was- what were you doing Dean?” 

“Drinking..”

“What?!” Fury filled Castiel’s eyes. “But you were doing so well, and I-“

“He was drinking. Yes. He’s a recovering alcoholic. Yeah. Two years sober. Uh huh. He  _ does  _ look a little yellow in the eyes.”

Dean felt shame wash over him in dirty waves. “I’m sorry Cas. I’m so so sorry.”

Castiel shook his head, reaching to grip at Dean’s arms. “I should have stayed. I should have-“

“Stop. It’s my fault and my stupid ducking feelings.”

“Your what?”

“Hello!!!” Diana yelled from Dean’s cell. Cas put her on speakerphone, her voice ringing more clearly into the small room. “I’m still here. Cas, what colour are the whites of his eyes?”

Cas took Dean’s head in his hands, using his thumb to gently pull down the lower eyelid. “A bit yellow.”

“And his skin?”

“Also a bit yellow.”

“Swollen stomach?”

Cas reached for the hem of his shirt, Dean fighting him. “Dean! Let. Go. Of. The. Shirt!” And he did. Cas sounded like he normally did before a smiting and it was enough of his old self that Dean let go. Cas pushed on his more pudgy than normal tummy. “Yes. It’s swollen more than normal. What does this mean?”

Diana sighed, and Dean knew already what she’d say. “Liver failure.” 

His whole world tilted on its axis, his head threatening to split in half. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, he was going to die. Again. Except, Cas no longer was an angel, and Dean wasn’t exactly friends with any other angels or demons that could save him now. Hell, the one witch who was ever willing to help them was also dead! He couldn’t die now. He couldn’t. It was too much, and he had to be there for Cas, and Sam, and Claire, and Pep, and -

Castiel pulled his shirt down and sat on his feet, pulling Dean bodily towards him. Dean kept naming people in his head, panic setting into his bones. Castiel simply stroked his hair and spoke to him softly, reassuring him over and over again that he’d be okay. He didn’t believe Cas, but it felt  _ so nice _ to be held that he didn’t say shit. He didn’t realize he was crying until the ambulance showed up. 

He was being lifted on the gurney when a panic attack hit him, harder than the last one. He thrashed, yelling for Cas, heart in his throat as they tried to restrain him. He knew they were talking to him, but he couldn’t hear them. It took Castiel forcing his arms down and putting his face right up into Dean’s before he settled back down. 

Claire stayed behind, Castiel holding Dean’s hand firmly in his own as they got in. He couldn’t remember the ride over, or the hour it took through triage, registration, and waiting before the doctor showed up. It was Diana’s face, her grasping his hand as he went into surgery that made him blink and realize they weren’t in the ambulance anymore. “How’d you get here so fast?” 

“I flew.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek, his arm coming up to hug her. She leaned enough to whisper in his ear, “You have to pretend we’re married. I made fake documents. You and Sam are going under our insurance so just say you’re Mr. Wilson.”

“Sam?”

“Who do you think is donating part of his liver? _Me?_ Hell no. I barely have any functioning liver of my  _ own. _ ”  She pulled away chuckling as he looked at her in a daze. “It’s going to be fine sweetie, I promise.” It was eerie how fast she could put on that fake mask on. Only Dean was used to it by now and could tell by the way her fingers tightened that it was all an act. “They have the absolute best doctors here, and they’re a level one trauma centre. You’ll be okay. Just…” her mask slipped. “Absolutely no more drinking or I’ll rip that fucking liver out of you myself, okay?” 

Dean nodded, terrified because he knew her threat was real. She could do without breaking a sweat. She kissed his cheek and let him go, Cas having to extract his own fingers from Dean’s vice grip as they pulled him through. 

“Lovely wife you got there. Scary, too.” He turned to the intern who commentated. “Very pretty though.”

Dean laughed. “She’s ex army. She could kick everyone’s ass here without breaking a sweat.” 

The intern laughed. “I better watch myself then, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” he grunted, being transferred to the operating table. “Hey, the guy giving me part of his liver? That’s my brother. No pressure, but don’t fuck that up. My wife may be ex army, but our dad was ex marine. We know,, things…” he started slurring his speech, turning to see the anesthesiologist finish injecting the sedative. “Woah. Huh! This is… woah. Yeah, we know things. We hunt the monsters in the closet. My niece, oh my niece! We made monster replant. Replant. Re-pell-ant. Wow. Tough word.”

“Okay Mr. Wilson, it’s time to go under now.”

“Okay. Night night Penelope. Say night night to.. to uncle… Dean.”

  
  
  



	10. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Dean is rushed to the hospital, he gets surgery that's long overdue on his failing liver.

 

The beeping woke him, the light caused his eyes to open, and the smell of fresh coffee brought his soul back into his body. “Coffee? For me?

Cas shot up from where he’d been sleeping hunched over. With a start, Dean realized he’d slept there. Holding Dean’s hand.  _ Slept there. Holding his HAND.  _ “You’re awake!” 

“Oh thank fuck!” He turned to see Diana walk in, coffee in hand. “ _ Jesus _ . Sam’s been awake for over five hours! I know his was a shorter surgery but good  **_GOD_ ** man, were you playing re-runs of Dr Sexy in there?”

“No! Those drugs were strong, okay?!” 

“I know sweetie,” she smiled, putting the coffee down to lean over and kiss his cheek. “The nurses are watching,” she whispered. “They have this theory that you’re secretly leaving me for Cas.”

He laughed as she pulled away, grabbing her hand and looking at the nurses at the station just outside his room. He brought her hand up to his face and kissed it. “I won’t kiss your mouth today though, babe. Not so soon after your  _ root canal!”  _ He projected, making the nurses pretending they weren’t eavesdropping on them flinch. 

She pulled her hand away, scoffing. “Ass.” She closed the door, pulling the curtain so they’d have some semblance of privacy. “Claire and Lynn are in Sam’s room. He can’t move much yet, but I’m trying to use my ‘womanly charms’ to get them to get him a wheelchair to bring him over here.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that working?”

“It’s not. That shit only works in the movies.” She sighed, putting on a thick dramatic flair to her words. “Guess I lost my edge?”

“What edge?” Cas retorted. “You bake pies and tend a garden and crochet.”

Dean laughed at the burn. “Oh damn Cas. That’s cold!”

“I’ll have you know I’m plenty edge, okay! I had double pierced ears in middle school!”

“Double pierced ears! Oh my god! Stop, stop, I’ll pull my stitches.” Dean held his tummy, hissing as it hurt. “Ow.”

“Okay, enough of that. The nurses will be inside in about sixty seconds and then the doctor will be here not five minutes after.”

“Done this before, huh?”

“My sister and,” she pitched her voice low, “ _ wife _ . Work in a What? Oh that’s right, a hospital!” She sighed, sitting down into the chair on his other side. “I know the motions.”

As Dean was about to open his mouth though, a nurse did just that. “Knock, Knock!” He said, already opening the door as he walked in. “What do we have here?” He opened the curtain, Cas dropping Dean’s hand before he could see. “Howdy Dean! How are you feeling?”

“Peachy.”

“Is he always this sunny?” The nurse - George - asked Diana.  

She smirked. “Oh honey, this is him on a  _ good day _ . You should have seen him when my wedding dress arrived. He was beside himself.”

“Hey! That’s not true! I was weirded out because you somehow figured out how to make a white  _ plaid  _ wedding dress. How- how the hell does a woman go, ‘you know what would make the whole thing  _ super _ classy? White and silver  _ plaid’ _ . It’s a miracle your sister didn’t slap you there and then.” 

Diana hummed. “Okay, that part’s true.” The three of them laughed as the nurse began to check vitals. Dean looked over at Cas to see if he got the joke, but the dude had his head leaned over his phone, texting someone quickly. Before he could ask who it was though, Cas up and left with a pat to Diana’s shoulder, the woman nodding as he left. “He’ll be back.” Dead cocked an eyebrow. “He’s texting Sam. Your brother’s been sending ‘is he awake yet?’ texts to us both every fifteen minutes since he woke up. He’s almost as annoying as you are.”

“Bitch.” He slipped out, immediately covering his mouth in shame. George the nurse was taken aback. 

Not missing a beat, Diana replied, “ass.” 

George looked at her as he unrolled the blood pressure cuff. “You two have a… great marriage.”

“Wow George,  _ wow _ . After our six hour friendship you’re going to walk away now?” George laughed at Diana’s exaggerated tone. “It’s been…  _ sniff, _ such a hard day. Oh my stars!” 

“Okay, okay. I get it. He scared you and now he’s trying to tough it out cuz he knows you could kick his ass. And everybody else’s ass in this hospital without breaking a sweat. Isn’t that right Dean?” 

Dean felt his face get hot. “Is that what I said?” 

“Uh-huh!” 

“Aawww… babe!” 

“Nope. I want away from her. I’m going to die a slow death with her condescending me now.” He glowered at her. “Why the hell I’m married to an army brat-“ 

“Hey! I’ll have you know I worked hard for those medals, okay?”

Dean was lucky George wasn’t looking his way because his face would have given the very obvious  _ what the fuck kind of medals are you talking about  _ face. “Oh. What kind?” George asked. 

“Soldiers Medal and Army Achievement Medal.”

“Woah. My uncle was in the army for ten years. He never got that far.”

“Your uncle was lucky then.” Her mask slipped again, the haunted look of someone who had taken too many lives flashed across her face. “They don’t give those awards to people who hand out supplies to the survivors. They’re given to those who make sure there are none.” 

Dean felt his stomach drop. He knew she’d had to kill before, torture too, but this? To get those she’d had to have killed likely hundreds. Killed too many to keep count.  **_She’s scarier than I am_ ** , he thought.  **_Thank fuck she’s on our side cuz shiiiit_ ** . 

George saluted her, her stance going rigid as he did so. “Thank you for your service to our country ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He turned to Dean. “You’re very lucky to have this woman in your court, Dean. She’s totally badass.” With that, he took Dean’s chart and left. 

Diana closed the door behind him and collapsed in the chair. “I hate when they do that.”

“Salute you or thank you for your service?”

“Both.” She leaned forward, hands running through her loose hair. “I get they’re thankful, but I wouldn’t have gone to the army if mom hadn’t needed round the clock care. If the government spent one fifteenth of the military budget on healthcare…” she sighed. “But, whatever.” 

Dean nodded. The room stayed silent for a total of ten seconds before Dean couldn’t stand to be quiet. “You did what you had to, whatever it was. You don’t ever have to tell me, even though I’ve already seen your memories and I pretty much know all your worst days. But still.” 

She chewed on that for a while. “They day they gave me my Purple Heart-“ she choked. She covered her mouth with her hand, head shaking. He grabbed her other hand to comfort her. After a few breaths, she found her voice, words lifeless and clinical. “That was sixteen days after I came home. Two weeks after Nathan died. Thirteen days after mom. I left the hospital when Susan went to the chapel to pray and I got fucking plastered. My best buddies, all but one blown to bits. I was dragged from that pit, but you didn’t see them operate on me at the military base. You didn’t see me run from my bed once I’d woken up and ran back to try and get more survivors out. You didn’t see me collapse thirty feet from the tent when another missile landed not a block away, throwing even  _ more  _ shrapnel in me. They were  _ kids, _ Dean! Kids in a school blown to bits because someone decided ‘hey you know what? Girls shouldn’t be able to go to school. Let’s overthrow the government and keep them from going. Also, let’s blow up the schools the US army helps run because we hate those guys. Oh? A bunch of kids dead? Who cares!’ Like…” she couldn’t stop crying. “They gave me a set of awards because I tortured people for information -  _ humans _ , Dean - on where they’d hit next, on how to stop them from blowing up schools, and for what? They. Died.  _ Anyways.  _ And then they give me an  _ award _ cuz I came home with shrapnel and they thought I was gonna die.” She huffed, trying to wipe tears away, but they fell faster. “How can I save people if the things I was hunting were also people?” 

He opened his mouth to reassure her that she wasn’t that soldier anymore. That she never had to do that again, but the door opened once more, a doctor coming in. 

“Hello Mr Wilson, how are we- oh! Mrs Wilson! Are you alright?” 

She sniffed. “Oh, yeah, just… I didn’t know if he’d make it. But he’s fine. He’s really fine, isn’t he?” 

She smiled at Diana warmly. “He really is fine. Your levels are all good, Dean. So are your brother’s. You’ll be out of here in about eight days barring complications.”

“ _ Eight days!”  _

“Honey…” Diana warned him gently to keep his voice down.

Not like Dean listened. “Eight days  _ here?!  _ Uh, no thanks. Get me some scotch tape and a pair of butterfly strips and I’ll be good to go in an hour.”

Diana laughed her fake high pitched giggle, though the edge of it felt almost too real. “He’s joking, you’re just joking,  _ tell her you’re joking,  _ **_honey_ ** _.”  _

“I can’t be here  _ eight days.  _ We have to have Susan’s birthday in five! I have to pick up the cake! I have to finish Mr. Harris’ car by the end of the month and the parts come in next week! I-“

Diana slapped a hand over his mouth. “And what happens if you leave here and bleed out. What happens to Penelope when she finds out her Uncle Dean is dead? Hmm? And  _ Sam?  _ You know, the little brother you raised, went to hell and back for, the one who just  _ gave you part of his liver _ ? What happens to him if he finds out you walked out of here with some tape and bled out, or had an air embolism because you had to finish the engine on some old dude’s  _ thunderbird? Hmm?”  _

He cast his eyes down, shame washing over him. He hadn’t thought this through, the fear of being stuck in the hospital bed too strong to digest the actual fear of being dead from neglecting his injuries. He nodded, Diana moving her hand away. “You’re right. I’m sorry for how I’ve behaved, Dr. Maheswaran, I hope you can forgive me. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and I know that doesn’t excuse my behaviour, I just didn’t realize how much it did affect me until right now."

She looked at him thoughtfully. “What kind of stress?” 

“We’ve recently invited his long time best friend to live with us,” Diana answered. “The man who he came in with, Cas, he had a big trauma happen to him a few years back and we thought he had died. But he had been hospitalized and had no recollection of who he was. When we found him, he had nowhere else to go - I mean, what company goes ‘oh you’ve been missing for three years? Oh no biggie, come take your old place?’ Not one. And rent doesn’t pay itself, so we took him in. His daughter, the blonde, moody, glaring one who called 911, she’s been living with a family friend for some time now. We thought it was about time he saw her face to face again. Try to remember something, you know? But he’s having a really hard go of it, and Dean’s been staying home, taking only odd jobs repairing cars instead of the regular hours at the garage so he can keep an eye on him and our niece, Penelope. Not Cas’ daughter, my sister’s.” 

The doctor wrote everything down, nodding as Diana gave her another piece of the puzzle. “And how long have you been drinking Dean?”

“Since I was 16. I stopped around when I met Diana - she used to be my sponsor. Today was the only time I’ve been off the wagon since. He… he just can’t remember and I know it’s because of the… the trauma, but I still feel like maybe if I tried harder to help him, maybe…” he trailed off. A single tear rolled down his cheek without his permission. “I’ve been sober two years. Not one drop. But today was hard. And I guess I really have been more tired lately, but I just thought it was cuz I’m getting older, and I didn’t really pay attention to the warning signs cuz I figured it was just me not eating enough vegetables.”

“More like  _ no  _ vegetables.”

“Hey, ketchup is a vegetable!”

Diana scoffed, rolling her eyes as she crossed both arms across her chest. “Yeah? And soy cheese tastes like chicken.”

“Fine!  _ No  _ vegetables. I only eat them in front of Pep anyways.”

Dr. Maheswaran got them back on track with a gentle hand wave. “And Pep is..?”

“Penelope. It’s her nickname.”

“Ah! That’s quite cute.” She scribbled something down on her clipboard. “And how old is Pep?”

“Four.”

“And you spend most of the time at home with her?” 

“I try.” Dean found his bedspread suddenly fascinating, carefully adjusting the ugly crocheted blanket Diana and Lynn brought from the house for him. “Diana moves around for work sometimes and Susan works a lot of shifts at the hospital. I try to help when I can.”

“Susan is your sister, correct?” Diana nodded. “And how much do you sleep at night?”

“I try to get my four hours in.”

“And how- I’m sorry, did you say four hours?”

Dean looked up sharply. He tried to school his features, but the confusion and sheepishness was hard to hide. “Uh… yeah?” 

“How long have you been sleeping four hours a night?”

“Since…” he counted backwards on his hands for a moment. “Since 2008-2009. Somewhere around there.” 

She gaped at him a moment, then looked at his fake wife. “You’re aware of this?” 

Diana’s face was resigned. Dean hadn’t noticed the wrinkles near her eyes or the crease in her forehead that seemed to not leave until now. He wanted to kick himself for not realizing that Diana was aging just like he was, though she  _ was _ doing it more gracefully than he was. “Dr. Maheswaran, I’ve been running on military time for longer than I’ve known Dean. I’ve only just started getting in six hours last year.” She sighed. “Nothing works to keep him asleep anymore. I know you don’t want me to tell anyone, and I’m sorry Dean, but he’s had a hard life.” 

“Diana…”

“It’s okay Dean, I won’t give her details. But his father, he neglected him and Sam for half their life, spending the other half abusing Dean. The only reason Sam is the good person he is today is because of Dean raising him to notice what was acceptable behaviour, and what wasn’t. Dean took all the abuse so Sam wouldn’t. He’s only  _ just _ allowed me to get him help the past few years. He’s been working hard on recovering, and this weekend I think was too much. I think I’ll have to quit my job for a while-“

“Diana, no-“

“And find something to do from home.” 

“But Di-“

“ _ No _ . Dean, would you just let me  _ help you! _ ” She yelled. She let go of his hand and stared at him fully. “You don’t always have to be the big protector, I keep telling you that there’s nothing wrong with being vulnerable. And if you don’t stop fighting me, you’re  _ gonna die _ . And who am I gonna get to bring you back? Huh?  **_GOD_ ** ?  **God** never answered my prayers before, and even then, who knows where the hell he’s fucked off too! What would you have me do, huh? Find an angel? Don’t think any of them could bring you back either! Mostly because I’m pretty sure angels don’t help atheists who kill people for a living and come home broken with nothing but a Purple Heart and a broken  _ actual heart!”  _ It wasn’t fake anymore. Diana was actually scared he’d die of this, her firsts pounding the bed near his chest in frustration. Dean had never seen her like this, never - no, that wasn’t true. She was like this when Lynn almost died, when her mom died. She actually thought he’d die. She was  _ convinced  _ of it, and it scared the  _ shit out of her _ .  

“Okay!” He grabbed at her wrists, smarting his wound. “Okay, okay. Shhh.. it’s okay, okay? I’ll listen to the doctor, whatever she says, okay? I’ll stay in the bed, right Dr Maheswaran?”

“Right.”

“See? Please don’t cry over me Diana, please. I’ll do it, okay? I’ll even eat kale!”

That made her pause, taking in shaky breaths. “You  _ hate _ kale.”

“I know,”

“You call it Satan’s Pubes.”

“I know,” he chuckled lightly. “And I’ll eat it if it makes you feel less worried. You gotta breathe, Dino, or you’ll end up next to me in your own bed.”

She huffed at him. “You know I only let two people call me that. And one’s dead.”

He chuckled. “Well I’m hoping you’d make an exception right now and not kick me in the balls for using it while I’m laid up in bed after surgery.” His eyes turned soft. “I think Dr M is about to tell me all the rest of the stuff I can’t do for the next little bit.” 

“Yes I was.” The doctor nodded her head, attention back to her. Her smile was warm and personable, features softening around the corners on her dark face. “Firstly, you’ll be a cocktail of medications for a while, a few you’ll probably have to take for the rest of your life I’m afraid,”

“Woo hoo to me.” His voice was dry, but he still winked at Diana who rolled her eyes, wrists still held fast by her fake husband.

“And you’ll have to refrain from sexual activity for about eight weeks.”

Diana huffed half a laugh at that. “No problem. I won’t be sleeping in your bed anyways.”

“Good idea.” By the strange look on the doctor’s face, he quickly came up with a plausible half-lie, adding, “she thrashes in her sleep. It would suck to do all this and have to come back to the ER cuz she accidentally punched me in the stomach because of her terrors.” 

“Yes, that  _ would  _ be awful. Also, no driving for six weeks.” At that he whimpered. “As a man who fixes vintage cars, I know that hurts but this is going to hurt more - no working. For three months. No exceptions, not even a Thunderbird.”

He looked up at the ceiling, hoping Chuck could hear him wherever the fuck he was now. “Why the hell did you leave, you prick? Huh? Why’d you let this happen? No working for  _ three months! _ Seriously? SERIOUSLY!?”

“Okay, sweetie, that’s enough yelling at  **God** for now.”

“Sorry.” He muttered. Motioning the doctor to carry on. She went on for another five minutes, telling him everything he needed to do, from wound care to diet, and handing Diana brochures and pamphlets to read over before she moved to look at his incisions. Lifting his gown, then his giant bandage, Dean thought he’d be sick. Thankfully the meds they had him on came with anti-nausea stuff cuz otherwise his entire stomach would be covered in bile. From the bottom of his rib cage was a long line, almost to his belly button, another long, curved incision from side to side met it on the middle of its curve. The scar was huge. Huge and angry looking, staples doing little to ease his worry. She nodded at it, covering it up and asking him questions he didn’t even realize he’d been answering, and then she walked away, asking Diana to come speak with her outside. 

He stared at his now covered stomach, wondering why it took so long for his liver to give out when he’d been drinking his whole life when a familiar hand slipped into his. He startled, staring up into Castiel’s eyes as his friend rubbed circles on the back of his hand with a thumb. “Are you alright? The intern who took you in told me you’d have a big scar, but I think it’ll take some time for that intern to realize the difference between big and really frickin big.” 

Dean chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Ah man. Cas, you’re so good at joking.” He said dryly. 

“I know,” Castiel responded, grinning slyly. The grin faltered not a moment later. “You scared me. So  _ much _ . You haven’t been feeling well enough to go on this trip, but I convinced you anyways. Then the walking tour your made you tired and I just thought ‘he’ll be okay after a nap.’ And I forgot my extra memory card for the camera, so Claire and I came back, but I almost just stopped at a pharmacy to buy one there. I wouldn’t have come back in time! What if you had  _ died  _ there, Dean?!” His voice hysterical. “I can’t have you die! I don’t know how to help you! You take care of me, and Penelope, and Jack, and Claire and you do all this work - taking on that Thunderbird even though you wouldn’t have to if you didn’t spend so much on me - and it was  _ killing you _ , this whole time! And I didn’t even notice! And I-“

Dean cut him off with both hands on his face. He pulled him in, a hand width apart and said. “Shut. Up. I did too much because I _always_ do too much. Have ever since I was a kid, and I think a part of you remembers that. And I had to convince _you_ to come on this trip, remember? And I take care of you because I fucking love you, and I take care of the people I love. So I need you to stop thinking everything is your fault because it’s not! Because you’re not **God** , Cas! So you wanna blame someone, blame _God_ _with me_ , Cas. Cuz I blame Him. I blame Him for not being there when I prayed to Him to bring you back. I blame him for all the shit he put me and Sammy through, for the shit he put _you_ through. I’m so peeved at him, even though he made you. Shit, Cas, you’re the _one good thing_ **God** ever made, and I am so fucking thankful he did, cuz you, Cas? You pulled me outta hell. You saved my ass so many times, I’m pretty sure there’s a ‘Property Of Castiel’ somewhere stamped on my ribs. You’re my best friend, and you spent years taking care of me. Let me for _once_ repay the fucking favour!” He let his voice drop, suddenly remembering that the whole hospital probably heard him. “Is that okay with you?” 

Cas nodded. He licked his lips then, slow and careful, Dean’s eyes tracking the movements. Dean didn’t realize he was doing the same until he looked up to see him watching Dean’s mouth right back.  **_Just kiss him Winchester!_ ** So he leaned forward an inch to do just that, when the door burst open.  _ Again _ . Cas pulled away quickly, cheeks turning red as Claire pulled the curtain away to sit on Dean’s other side. 

“So Sam sent me in here so you two could FaceTime.” She opened the app and shoved the phone into Dean’s right hand. “Here, just click thiiiiis icon, okay?” 

“Don’t be so condescending, I know how to work FaceTime.”

“Uh huh, sure grandpa, whatever you say.”

“Hey! I’m not a grandpa!” 

The app had beeped and Sam was up on the screen, laughing. “You  _ look  _ like a grandpa from this angle.”

Dean scoffed. “Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

He smiled. “I’m going to have to get you and Eileen matching cars for the liver you just gave me, huh?”

“No,” Sam waved off. “Just Eileen. I’m not allowed to drive for a month,  _ at least.” _

“A month? My doctor said six weeks!”

“My surgery was half the time of yours, plus my body doesn’t have to work as hard as yours does cuz I still have most of my own liver left.” He smirked. “Although, spending the next eight days in here might make me want to reach in and take it back.”

“Oh wow. How original. Diana already used that one.”

“I’ll bet. Hey, so listen- Lynn, wait!” Sam’s upset face shifted away from the screen, the phone being ripped away from him. 

“Dean.” Lynn’s face came in clear, her hair a complete mess, bags under her eyes like she hadn’t slept in days. “I heard yelling. It sounded like you. Who were you yelling at?” 

Dean bit the inside of his lip. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mmhmm. I’m sure.” Lynn and Diana had been together so long, their damn mannerisms had rubbed off on each other. It was unnerving. “Where’s Castiel?” 

“Next to me, see?” He panned the phone to show her Cas. “He’s fine. I’m fine, well I mean, I just had major surgery but I’m recovering.” He pulled the phone back to himself. “Can I speak with my brother now?”

“Sure. In a second.” He rolled his eyes. “I saw that! This  _ is  _ a video link. Now, Cas, was he yelling at you?” 

“Er, no?”

“Mmhmmm. And what was he  _ not  _ yelling at you about?”

Cas looked away from the screen, a bit embarrassed. “I blamed myself for all the stress he’s been under lately and him collapsing in the motel.”

“Cas…” she rubbed her face with one hand. “We talked about how guilt can destroy relationships. Remember how we worked on how to let go of guilt when it turns to shame and dread? You’ve let it turn to shame again.”

It wasn’t a question, but Castiel answered her anyways. She sighed. “I’m trying, honest, Lynn. It’s just that I’ve been demanding this whole trip and I feel like maybe if we stayed home, then if he collapsed there, Diana and you wouldn’t have had to fly out here with Sam for this. Maybe you could have saved money and time, and Susan’s birthday is in five days, and-“

“And Susan would be upset? Why?”

“Because she works hard and deserves a nice time!” He exclaimed. Dean reached a hand to his shoulder, hoping the touch would calm him down. 

“Don’t you work hard? Haven’t you and Dean been helping her take care of Pep? Haven’t you been reminding Dean to eat, to sleep? Haven’t you been working hard keeping the house running, cleaning the dishes and doing laundry? Haven’t you been working hard on your own recovery?”

“Yes, but-“

“But what? It’s not the same? Why? Because one pays and one doesn’t? So what? Diana and I work hard just as much and we do  _ very  _ different jobs. But we don’t assume that another person’s health scare is our fault because we know that if the other doesn’t wanna do it, we can’t force them. Right Dean?” 

“Right.”

“So enough.” Her voice was firm, no nonsense and parent-like. What she said was final and was expected to be followed. “No more yelling, no more blame. I’ll take you for a coffee in a few hours Castiel, and we can have a session. And Diana will be back to see Dean then for an AA meeting. Until then, Sam and I are going to eat Jello and watch shitty daytime television and Claire’s going to want her phone back to play Flappy Run.”

Claire scoffed, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “That’s not even  _ close _ to a game.”

“Eat me.” And like that, board certified therapist Lynn Wilson ended their FaceTime. 

“Wow.” Claire grabbed her phone from Dean’s hand, pressing the remote in its place. “She was pretty stone cold there.” She stood and went over to hug Castiel. It was warm and far less awkward than before. “I’m off to class. Diana took over your guy’s motel room so don’t worry about your stuff. She’ll bring your charger when she can, plus some other stuff. Cas, try to get some sleep in an  _ actual _ bed. I don’t want you to have scoliosis.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works..”

“Whatever.” She bent down to kiss Dean’s forehead. She hissed in his ear, “tell anyone I did that and I’ll rip out your new liver,” before standing back up and leaving.

“Can people stop threatening to take my liver? It’s brand new!” 

Castiel chuckled next to him. “It  _ has _ been played out, hasn’t it.”

“No kidding.”

“Where’s Eileen and Jack?” 

“They couldn’t get a flight out in time so they’re driving. They should be here soon. Do..” he leaned closer to whisper into Dean’s ear. “Do you want me to get Jack to heal you?” 

Dean had thought about it; he’d be an idiot not to. But he ultimately decided no, he didn’t want that. He shook his head, avoiding Castiel’s eyes. “No. I didn’t take care of myself and now I have to face the consequences. Plus, Sam didn’t give up part of his liver for nothing. Let’s wait until the six weeks are up and we can try then.” Castiel nodded, not wanting to fight. “I wonder what’s on?”

“ _ Ellen _ , I’d suppose.”

“Alright, guess it’s time to watch my second favourite lesbian.”

“Your first being Charlie.” 

“My first being -“ Dean looked Castiel in hope. “Do… do you remember Charlie?” 

“I-“ he stopped himself, squinting and tilting his head. “Huh. I do. It’s mostly muddled, but I remember her punching my arm and asking me if we ‘just became best friends’, but I don’t know why? And I remember her face. She had a small chin, and bright red hair. She… she had kind eyes. I remember her death. Or you telling me about it. It was…” tears fell from his eyes. “It wasn’t right. I wish I could have stopped it. She was my friend. She was  _ your _ friend. She was so kind…” he looked up at the ceiling. “I think if I were to yell at  **God** right now, I’d tell him to make you healthy and to bring her back. She deserved better.”

Dean grasped his hand. “I know.” 

They stayed there until Lynn came, watching  _ Ellen _ and holding hands. 

———-

 

Dean hummed when he washed the dishes, a habit that hadn’t stopped once he moved back in. It had been exactly ten weeks since his transplant and he was getting back into a semblance of normal. Of course this meant Penelope pretending to be his doctor every morning as she woke him up for ‘rounds’ as her mother took notes. It was sweet, and she always gave him a sticker for being a good patient. But today he wasn’t a patient to her. He was just uncle Dean again, washing dishes as the sound of soft jazz crooning from the radio on the counter filled the room. The sun had set a while ago and nightfall enveloped the world in a lovely dark blanket of calm. Cas had put gone up to put Pep to bed and would be down soon to play a game of cards but for now, Dean hummed as he washed the suds off the plates. 

His scar was still angry looking, though Sam was lucky with a smaller scar, Dean didn’t think it was too bad. He still wore a shirt around Penelope 24/7, and he wasn’t going to the beach anytime soon, but it could be worse looking. Cas had been taking care of him too, especially when it came to looking after his scar once the scabs had all gone away. He was very gentle helping Dean with getting out of bed, keeping the scar clean and covered. He’d also helped remind Dean to take his meds every day, being very persistent and annoying about it. Susan said she was pretty impressed with him actually, which was not a small thing. But even if it had faded some, Dean was still self conscious. It was still a frickin huge scar. 

“Okay, I read her three stories  _ and  _ sang her that lullaby Diana always sings her but I think she’s  _ finally  _ asleep.” 

Dean nodded. “The  _ Los pollitos dicen  _ one. The one where the chicks go  _ pio pio pio? _ ” 

“I didn’t know it had a name. I’ve been calling it the Pio Song this whole time.” They chuckled together. “Want help drying?” 

Dean shrugged. “Sure, if you’re not too tired.”

“My brain is tired, by body is not. My body is very angry with me for drinking coffee after six pm.”

“Cas, buddy, I told you that you gotta cool it with the caffeine.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, a habit he’d been perfecting over the past few weeks. “Yeah, yeah, but also, it’s  _ caffeine _ , Dean. It’s very good. Especially the one Eileen buys.”

“Tsk. That damned hazelnut coffee and you are going to end up moving out and buying a house in the suburbs together.”

“Dean,” he places a hand on his shoulder, face very serious. “I would never, ever choose to live in the suburbs. I would rather live in the woods under a tent made of spiders than live in the freaking suburbs.”

Dean wanted to laugh but was interrupted with a small voice asking: “do we have any milk left?”

They abandoned the dishes to look at Penelope, her Ghostbusters pajamas and ridiculous monster feet slippers making her look like a tiny Susan, right down to the braids in her hair.

“Why are you out of bed Pep?” Castiel bent down to scoop her up. “Was my singing that bad?”

“No. You sound like Batman when you sing. I like Batman.”

Castiel looked so disappointed but Dean couldn’t help laughing even if he had a gun to his head. “Oh Pep! It’s okay, I’ll sing to you. Want me to sing Hey Jude?” 

Pep thought about it a second, finger on her chin like the Broadway diva she was blossoming to be. “Hmmmm… only if you do it playing the guitar.”

“The guitar is at uncle Sam and aunt Eileen’s place, remember? I let your cousin Jack borrow it.” 

“Oh yeah.. hey, how come Cas is Jack’s dad, but he lives with Uncle and Aunty?” 

“That’s because they have a library four times the size of ours,” he replied without hesitation. She didn’t need to know that it was because it was safer for all of them if Jack was at the bunker. 

“Woah.” Penelope’s little eyes widened into dinner plates. “Can I visit them? I want to read  _ all  _ of their books.”

Cas chuckled, pushing her bangs from her eyes. “When you’re older sweetie. There’s a lot of stairs over there, and very few handrails.”

“Hmmm. Good points. So are you gonna sing me to sleep?” 

“Sure.” 

“And Uncle Dean? Do you know any bedtime stories?”

“Sure! Uh, Cinderella and Snow White-”

“No! Not Disney stories.” She stuck her tongue out in disgust, mimicking her aunt Diana to a tee. “I like ones that mommy tells me, about ghosts and witches. Uncle Cas is good at them too. Do you know the one about the Righteous Man?”

Dean chuckles at her wide eyes. “I know a bit of it. How does it go again?”

“The angel pulls the man from hell. He fights with him and one day he falls in love with the righteous man.” Dean's smile faltered as she continued to speak. “And the angel keeps trying to tell the man he loves him, but it's hard because their love is forbidden.” Dean flicked his eyes at Castiel, a look of horror on the former angel’s face he hadn't seen in years 

“How- how does it end?” 

“The angel dies. Over and over again, but  **GOD** keeps bringing him back. One day, the righteous man realizes that he loves the angel too, and begs  **GOD** to make him an angel too so they can live in heaven together.”

“I don't- I don't remember that ending.”

“No? Well it's really good! Uncle Cas tells it to me every time he tucks me in. He never uses their names though, I don't think they have them at least. Mommy says their love is even stronger than true love’s kiss!” She threw her hands up and back like she was throwing flower petals in the air. “Is that why people kiss at weddings? Will Auntie Eileen and Uncle Sam kiss at their wedding?” she questioned. 

Dean looked down at Penelope to see her looking up at him expectantly. “Huh? Oh yeah, I'm sure they will. They'll keep it short though since you'll be there and they don't want to embarrass you kiddo.”

Pep laughed. “I'm not embarrassed! Auntie Diana and Lynn kiss all the time in front of me! They're in love just like Sam and Eileen. I wish daddy was still alive so mommy could have someone love her like that too. I asked uncle Cas if daddy's an angel and guess what? He said he is! That's means maybe Mommy's a righteous woman and daddy will come back to her one day and they can be together again!”

“I think that would be amazing Pep. Now, here’s your warm milk. I need to ask you to go upstairs and drink it and I’ll be there in a second, okay?”

“Okay!” She squirmed in Cas’ arms a second before patting his face carefully like she used to when she was a baby. “Uncle Cas? You have to let me down.”

“Huh? Oh, right, sorry.”

“It’s okay, I get it. I’m warm and loveable and no one can get enough of me!” She faked a maniacal laugh between taking the milk from Dean’s hands. “Thank you. Good night uncle Cas, love you!” 

“Uh huh. Love you.” 

They watched her walk up the stairs, staying still until they heard the door to her room open, then close shut. 

Cas began to retreat back upstairs himself. “Cas.” Dean grabbed at his wrist, stopping him. Castiel turned slowly, terrified eyes flicking up to meet Dean's. “What do you remember?”

“Everything.” Its breathy, like a weight has been placed on his chest. “I remember everything.”

Dean laughed humorlessly and shook his head. He gently tugged at Cas’ arm and lead him to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He pulled him to the bed and they both sit down, neither saying a thing. Dean let go of Castiel only to slip off his own shirt and pants. Cas stared blankly at Dean, face hot until Dean slipped into his old soft pyjamas, passing a set to Cas. When they both were changed, Dean placed a single finger on his face, wiping a tear away. 

“I’m going to sing her to sleep and I’ll be back right after, okay? Please…” he gripped at his friend’s shoulder desperately. “Please be here when I come back?” 

“Of course.”

Dean nodded and left, closing the door before leaning heavily on it. He closed his eyes a second, trying to breathe normally before going into Penelope’s room, only to find her conked out and breathing evenly. Her arm clutched at the stuffed dragon more tightly, probably dreaming about flying again. He slowly walked back, wondering if it was all a dream, that he was dreaming, but the itching of his wound healing was too real to ignore, so he swallowed his fear, opened his door and walked in. 

Cas hadn’t moved from the bed, but he seemed even more scared now. "Look, Dean, we can forget about the whole thing. It’s okay. I know it made you uncomfortable and I don’t want to jeopardize the whole relationship we’ve rebuilt here, and-“ 

Dean pushed at Castiel’s chest lightly, making him lie down on the bed, covers being pulled away. Dean hovered over him, half on the bed and half straddling him. 

“Cas…. the angel fell in love with the righteous man?”

“Yes.”

“And he never told him?”

“He did. In a barn as he lay dying.”

“Why only then?”

“Because it was the only time the righteous man heard it. But- “ Castiel swallowed thickly, blush red all over his face and spreading to his neck quickly. “But the angel had said and shown it a hundred times before, and the man never even blinked.”

“And how did the righteous man tell the angel that he loved him back?”

“With true love’s kiss.” Warm and chapped lips met his before he finished his sentence. Dean's lips gentle and unhurried against his own, soft and chaste. 

“Like that?” Dean asked, a tear gleaming in one eye as he smiled. 

“No, more like-” and Castiel finally,  _ finally _ pulled Dean firmly on top of him, kissing passionately and demanding entrance with his tongue. After several heated moments, they broke apart for a breath. 

“I love you Cas. I've loved you for years. In that barn- and when you died- I was just-”

Castiel took both hands to hold Dean's face as he kissed him gently on the mouth. “I love you too Dean. I always have, I always will. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you again sooner.” 

Dean smiled. “‘S’okay. I was healing. You were healing.” He leaned it to nip at Cas’ jaw line. “I’m glad we can do this now.”

“Dean, Dean,” Cas pushed on his chest, putting some room between then. “Can we? Your operation, and the doctor said-“

“It’s been ten weeks, two more weeks waiting than I’d like, Cas. Unless..” worry filled his veins like ice. “Unless you don’t want to.” 

“Shut up, Winchester. Kiss me now or I’ll surely die.”

“Okay, Mr Bossy.”

“I thought I was huggy bear?” 

Dean snorted and kissed Castiel to keep his mouth occupied with something better than sarcasm. 

 

————

 

Diana awoke to a blob of drool from Lynn on her shoulder. Her wife had over done it the past few weeks organizing a conference for the other shrinks to come to at the hospital, as the gala last night took whatever was left completely out of her. Diana dared not comment when they left early though, Lynn making her pull the truck over so they could get handsy. She gently pried herself away from the bed, careful not the wake her. She stripped out of her sleep shirt to put one on without drool, and stole Lynn's silk robe before sneaking down the stairs. As she got coffee going, she made a quick look in the fridge to decide what to make for breakfast when Dean's yawn broke her train of thought. 

“Hey,” she said without looking up from the fridge, recognizing him by the shuffle of his slipper clad feet. “We’re out of bacon so I was thinking pancakes? I know Suz hates when Pep is full of sugar this early but I really think it's the best-” she turned around to see Dean's hair in total disarray, Castiel trailing behind him in an equal look of rumpled. She looked back and forth between the two men several times before realizing that they both had hickeys on their necks, and both wearing Dean's pjs. “Option…. oh man. Suz?”

Susan walked in, scrubs from the night before still on, clearly having slept on the couch. “What?”

“You owe me 200 bucks.”

“What? What are you-” Susan looked quickly between the two men herself before sighing loudly. She looked up at the ceiling before groaning. “Seriously? You guys couldn't wait three more days? Damn it!” 

“What?” Dean's hands were outstretched, trying to gauge the situation. 

“I could have won $250! Damnit. Oh well. Fine, I'll get it to you after work tonight.”

“You guys bet- bet on”

“You bet on Dean and I having sex?”

The kitchen fell silent before Diana let out a soft “well fuck.”  

“We bet on when you two would kiss. But now that we know that-”

“Nope, nope. No more talking. Cas, let's go wake Penelope.”

“But, coff-”

“NOPE!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be JUST chapter nine but it was so big it kept making my doc crash. So here yall are, and hopefully will post the next chapter in a couple of weeks. ENJOY SMOOCHES!

**Author's Note:**

> If you see any spelling or grammatical errors, please give a shout. Anything that didn’t flow or work too, I really want to learn to be a better writer. Cheers!


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